Not like this
by solveariddle
Summary: Cal and Gillian believed they could handle it but when emotions run high, they realize that being close implies the risk of falling apart. Will they be able to stop the downward spiral they set in motion before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I struggled (and still struggle) a lot with writing this story. However, if I don't start to post it now, I'll probably never finish it. So, here we go... This is a different approach to Cal's and Gillian's relationship based on two assumptions.

1. There was a lot more going on behind the scenes than we knew.

2. What was going on didn't make their relationship any easier and might be an explanation for Cal's strange behavior at the beginning of Season Three.

It for sure helps if you saw all seasons because there will be many references (but I guess you wouldn't be here anymore if you aren't a real fan and saw all episodes at least once). In this chapter, I refer mainly to two scenes near the end of 3x1 "In the red" and 3x4 "Double blind" plus to the Dave Burns storyline during Season Two. Timeline-wise the story starts right after 3x4 "Double blind", but there will be flashbacks.

Be prepared for some drama/angst and give me a little leeway as to their characters even if I will always try to make their actions plausible.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. This is just for fun because I miss them terribly.

* * *

In retrospect, they, of all people, should have known better. _Doctors_ Lightman and Foster. _Deception experts._ As if. When it comes to themselves, they are not able to detect a lie even if it is laughing in their faces every day.

It seemed to be so easy. They did it before. Invented a line so that they wouldn't read each other. And despite the occasional slip here and there, it worked and is still in place (although it is getting more and more difficult these days to respect it, but that's another story). So, why not invent another line? A line that allowed them to cope with certain situations in their own way without having to bother about consequences. A line that was variable so that they could bend and stretch it, just as they wanted. Simple, in theory. Fatal, for all practical purposes. You can't change elementary particles and expect the equation to stay the same. Applied physics. It was doomed to fail right from the start.

Yes, in retrospect, they really should have known better.

* * *

_You mess with my finances again, you and I are through. Now, you're the language expert, you tell me – do I mean that?_

When Cal said that to Gillian, he was furious, not about the finances, not about the fact that she had frozen their assets. Deep down he knew she was only trying to protect their company. They have to operate economically, and she is always the one who has an eye on their earnings because he considers such things negligible compared to their science. So, to hell with his finances; it wasn't about money. What had gotten to him was the symbolic meaning of her action that represented her alleged _I set the rules _attitude. Again, deep down Cal was very well aware that his assumption most likely was far from Gillian's real attitude. However, it felt that way, and his feelings needed an outlet.

He thought he knew Gillian, thought she was the one he should worry about when it all started (and of course, he can't stop worrying about her, never will be able to stop). How could he have been so wrong? Why didn't he realize that it wouldn't be her suffering the most but him? Sometimes Cal doesn't even care anymore whether his behavior or words hurt her because she, or rather this... situation, is hurting him constantly. On some days, he barely manages to survive. Gillian, on the other hand, remains a mystery to him, hiding her feelings like a sphinx. He can't tell whether she is aware of the degree of his hurt, but she for sure is aware of at least some of the effect it all has on him because she lets him get away with everything while the staff already is starting to wonder how and why she simply sits out his unbearable behavior. As she did when he said those lines to her.

And there was more. Cal told Gillian despiteful things about how the company had been built on _his_ sweat and that it's _his_ name at the entrance, not hers. The words came out even more scornfully than he had planned, but he _liked_ it. Liked how they lingered in the air between them, liked how Gillian tried not to show that she was hurt. Wasn't it usually the other way round? Wasn't it usually her who hurt him? Therefore, why should he have been worried about the pained expression in her eyes? She couldn't possibly feel as miserable as he did, or could she?

After all, it was her who had perfected this game they played, or maybe still play. Actually, he isn't quite sure these days. _She_ would let him get close whenever it suited her. And _she_ would push him away again when it didn't. Like when she had met Burns. _Burns... _a name full of bitter irony. Dave Burns had _burned_ Cal badly or rather Gillian's love for him had. When she had gotten involved with Dave, Cal could feel the invisible fire devour his skin, burning him to the bone, leaving raw flesh. However, he had pretended to be able to deal with it because anything else would have meant revealing the extent of his hurt and vulnerability, and that was the one thing he couldn't bring himself to do.

_What if she was waiting for it to be revealed?_ It is a recurring question Cal asks himself whenever he thinks about it, and every time it sets something in motion deep inside of him. Then again, it is always followed by the same question. _What if she wasn't?_ And every time that's the moment he stops to think about it because the answer threatens to be too painful.

_You mess with my finances again, you and I are through._

Cal lashed out with words instead of confessing his hurt, and Gillian stood her ground as she always did, not backing away from him a millimeter.

_Now, you're the language expert, you tell me – do I mean that?_

She didn't even seem to acknowledge his verbal attack, denied him a response and just stood there, looking at him. The insight sank in that all he had done was add another layer of pain to their already strained relationship. They both knew it was an idle threat; they will never be through.

* * *

If you asked Cal Lightman how he defined his relationship with Gillian Foster, he would have no answer. She is his business partner; that much is well-known and obvious. Regarding their personal relationship... About 1 ½ years ago, he would have added without hesitation that she also was one of his rare best friends. But can you call someone a best friend even if you are not able to talk to her about the most important thing that is going on in your life because it involves her? And _involves_ means in that worst possible, how-did-it-all-go-to-hell way that defies any logical explanation. Probably not. No, they aren't best friends anymore these days. That doesn't mean they don't talk. Sometimes they do, and sometimes it's even a heart to heart talk like in the good old days. Most of the time, though, the silence between them speaks volumes. They worry about each other as they always did and probably always will. Yet, the fact remains that they _– or to be exact, he –_ started a downward spiral, and they both seem to have no idea how to get out of it.

* * *

_You tell me we're okay. You know I've always had more trouble reading you than anyone else._

When Gillian didn't react to his insult regarding their finances, Cal stepped up his game. He flirted with Detective Wallowski, helped her against better judgement, threatening to damage his relationship with Gillian even more in the process, and messed around with a possible female suspect after that. In a nutshell, Cal did everything to provoke a reaction from Gillian that would prove he wasn't the only one struggling with their situation. When he kind of forced her to lie for Wallowski by lying for him, he was fiercely proud of it, enjoyed their argument because – finally – there were real feelings instead of her _everything's fine, I can handle it_ attitude that ticked him off.

_You tell me we're okay._

Eventually, though, Cal simply gave in. One last effort to get to her with his silly cat and mouse quote, implying that she wasn't an equal partner, not worth to be let in on all his plans and secret long-cons. Yet, they both knew that it was wishful thinking. In reality, he is the mouse, and Gillian is the cat. At the end of the day, she sets the rules. _You win, Gill,_ Cal thought and asked her if they were okay because he needed them to be, and they weren't, and it was slowly killing him.

_You know I've always had more trouble reading you than anyone else._

Cal is so easily irritable these days, was so caught up in the moment, that he only questioned his ability to read her and not hers to read him. If he had looked closely, he maybe would have seen the flicker of doubt in her eyes. Gillian may be able to read him better than he is able to read her, but what she saw in Cal's face wasn't nearly enough to form an opinion. She is as lost as he is when it comes to them. They have reached an impasse.

Again, Gillian didn't react, didn't answer, just looked at Cal and then left without a word as his stomach turned at the realization that she might be able to cope with it and react like that forever. Then again, perhaps she won't, and he only doesn't know it as yet.

* * *

It's late, and Cal is at home rethinking their _you tell me we're okay_ conversation earlier that day. Gillian tilted her head sideways, and her facial expression softened at his admission that he couldn't read her but needed to know that they were okay. Scientifically speaking, those are good signs. So, when his phone rings, and Cal recognizes Gillian's number, he doesn't know whether he should be excited or worried. He is anxious, either way.

"What is it, luv?"

"Is Emily with you?" Her voice sounds different, tense or exhausted or maybe both.

Usually Cal would be alarmed because his daughter is not home, and Gillian's question is kind of weird. Given the circumstances, though, her weird question tells him that there is nothing to worry about. Nothing happened to Emily. This is no emergency. Well, at least no ordinary one. Instead, Cal has a pretty good idea why Gillian asked him about Emily. She did it before, and he is not sure whether he likes it or not. He likes the implication and dreads at the same time the consequences because the times when he could lull himself into the false belief there would be none are long gone. As much as he wants it, he already knows that he will be worse off later.

Yet, it is a reaction from her after all – just not the one he was hoping for or maybe he is wrong or maybe... Cal realizes that he still hasn't given Gillian an answer.

"No, she's not here. Stays overnight with a friend." He briefly considered lying, completely thrown off balance by her call and his thoughts jumping to – perhaps wrongful – conclusions, but it all has become so complicated that he fears this lie could be enough to drive them apart for good.

Gillian doesn't respond, and Cal discerns that she hung up. Still, he is not worried since it fits a behavioral pattern he experienced before. He was about to go to bed. Now, Cal sits down at his kitchen table, waiting, knowing – and at the same time hopelessly lost - what will happen next.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**Want to share your thoughts? I won't stop you! ;) Reviews make me very happy.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your reviews (including the lovely guest reviewer michelle), the alerts and your support. It is such great motivation to continue with the story. Writing it is still giving me a hard time, but I think I'm slowly starting to get a grip on it and the versions of Cal and Gillian I try to make alive here. So, here's the next installment. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. This is just for fun. Angsty fun, actually.

* * *

_Flashback (Cal's point of view)_

It begins a couple of days after Gillian left Alec.

Ever since Gillian told him that she will get divorced, Cal feels the ground sway under his feet every now and then. Literally. Sometimes he even has to steady himself because he threatens to stumble.

Their relationship has always been a mixture of respect, trust and innuendo due to the undeniable mutual attraction. Then again, the circumstances did always conveniently not allow to consider anything beyond that until her upcoming divorce gave the cards a shuffle. Well, Gillian for sure still doesn't consider anything beyond that, being occupied with finding a new home and coping with the breakdown of her marriage – the latter most probably, if not certainly, a personal failure by her sophisticated standards. As to him... Cal is stunned how much his mere knowledge that Gillian doesn't go home to another man after work any longer, the mere thought of sheer endless possibilities that weren't there before, seem to change everything.

Their personal lives rarely mingled in the past – only when push came to shove during his divorce and after Gillian and Alec lost Sophie, but a different situation means different rules, doesn't it?

Cal _knows_ it is the wrong time because Gillian is hurt and not ready for something new. He _knows_ (or at least assumes) he is the wrong man for her because he will never be able to live up to her standards. He also knows (or at least assumes another time and perhaps all his assumptions are wrong, but _should have known better_ never has been a good excuse for anything) that this could be his one and only chance to make a move on her. Aside from his rather unhealthy love for playing poker and roulette, he has no addictions. Yet, his subconsciousness has obviously chosen to give him a new one. An obsession that makes his other addictions look like kids' stuff. Her.

Dr. Cal Lightman, deception expert, should know better than to listen to an inner voice that tells him to do something that has to be wrong even if it feels so right, should know better than to use proving himself right that he is not worth having Gillian as a lame excuse for going for exactly that. No matter how twisted it all is, he should be able to see the truth between the lies he keeps telling himself. But he isn't.

He only wants to make sure that she is fine, wants to check on her, maybe talk to her a bit and then head home. At least, that's what Cal persuades himself when he knocks on her door. Gillian lives in a hotel temporarily, doesn't even have a new home as yet. So, what does he expect? There is no way she can be fine, and he knows it, his idea that he will simply check on her and then leave nothing but a false pretense to see her. In private.

Cal has no plan, pushed back every nagging thought that taunted him on his way to the hotel. When Gillian opens the door, though, she looks just the right amount disheveled and shaken to immediately wake up his hunting instinct at the sight of a weakened prey – the beast waiting to be fed, his basic needs waiting to be fulfilled. He still has no plan; she still is his best friend, and he doesn't want to do anything that hurts her. If she was only the slightest bit more disheveled and shaken, sympathy would have won and nothing would have happened between them than comforting words and tender hugs. As it is, Cal's pulse quickens at the sight of her beautiful and vulnerable face. No, heading home is not going to happen soon.

Gillian isn't surprised to see him and steps aside to let him in. Only a few people know that Alec and she are separated and that she stays in this hotel. Therefore, it wasn't a wild guess that it had to be Cal when she heard the knock on the door. In a way, she expected him. When Cal walks past her, he smells a slight whiff of alcohol. A brief glimpse of the open minibar reveals that one or two of the shooters are missing although Gillian is far from being drunk, a little tipsy perhaps. She doesn't talk about it much, but Cal knows at least some bits about her family history and her father who used to drink and neglect his family in the process. It's the reason why she never gets drunk even if she likes to indulge in alcohol from time to time. Gillian doesn't ask Cal why he came by to see her. She just takes another of the shooters out of the minibar and hands it over to him.

"Suit yourself." Her voice is hoarse and raw, her eyes reddened but only a little. Gillian probably cried sometime that evening although her regular breathing tells Cal that she must have stopped a while ago. By now, she almost seems to be relaxed or at least composed.

She slumps onto the bed, leaving the choice to Cal whether he wants to sit on the one and only rather uncomfortable looking armchair or next to her. On the bed. Cal is indecisive, looking around, when he hears Gillian's sigh and watches her lay back, her legs dangling at the edge of the bed where she sat before.

Lazy, sweet, sexy... Weakened and vulnerable...

This is wrong... But it will feel so right...

Before he can give it another thought, Cal moves to sit down beside her, silencing his inner struggle for now.

"Hey." He leans back and pushes a strand of hair out of her face. "Are you okay?"

Silliest question ever. Gillian tilts her head sidewards and looks at him as if to say _really?_ They both have to smile despite the odd circumstances, and she tilts her head some more. Maybe her movement was unwitting, caused by the ease of the moment. However, her face has just the right angle so that all Cal has to do is lean forward, close the gap and...

"What am I going to do, Cal?" she whispers.

His hand that pushed away her strand of hair still lingers on her face, and she reaches out to touch his arm. Cal hasn't taken off his jacket and knows it isn't possible, but the heat of her touch burns his skin.

And right then, right in this moment, he is dead certain that he has to leave because as much as he cares about her as a person, as his best friend, right now he doesn't care at all what she will do tomorrow, in a week, or in a month. Right now, she is his obsession, within touching distance, and all he wants is to give in to temptation.

This is wrong... But it will feel so right...

His brain is screaming commands at Cal. _Move. Get out. Don't touch her._ But his body simply doesn't obey.

Gillian notices the change in his facial expression and freezes, but she doesn't pull back her hand. It is all the invitation he needs.

Cal bends down and kisses her. It isn't nice; it isn't gentle. His kiss is demanding and needy and wrong and right and to his surprise she keeps up with him all the way.

And this is how it begins.

* * *

_Present Day_

Gillian must have ignored some speed limits and red lights on her way because Cal hears her knock on his front door much sooner than he expected.

He opens the door, and the fresh air of the night hits him along with the realization that she isn't wearing a coat. Obviously, someone came over in a hurry. Cal tried to prepare himself for a variety of possibilities when he had been waiting for Gillian – an argument, reproaches, perhaps even tears. All the time, though, he knew that it wouldn't be one of those scenarios. Her question about Emily, the weird undertone in her voice. He experienced all that before, and it doesn't mean arguing or tears. Not at all.

She stands on his doorstep and stares at him. It feels like a stand-off. If the atmosphere wasn't so tense, Cal would be tempted to laugh. As it is, he just stares back at her, weighing his options.

"Do you want to come in?" Cal eventually asks, aware that it sounds ridiculously formal and not in the least like him.

Anyway, Gillian moves forward slowly but doesn't walk past him as he anticipated but straight toward him so that he has to step back. Every step he retreats, she follows, holding eye contact until he has to turn away from her to look where he is going as not to miss the entrance to his living room. The moment Cal does that, Gillian grabs his shirt and turns him back around, their bodies colliding in the process.

By her standards, she is wearing casual clothes – jeans and a shirt. Well, definitely casual. It's cold outside; she left her house without a coat and apparently froze outside – that much Cal can tell when her upper body is pressed against his. No bra.

Gillian lets her hands drop down to his hips and then a little bit more until she reaches the hem of his shirt and slips them underneath it. Her hands are cold, and Cal flinches from the contact and from the pure excitement that flows through his traitorous body immediately.

"Gillian..."

His vision gets blurry when she moves closer to kiss him.

"Gill..."

Her lips brush his briefly right before he grabs her shoulders softly and pushes her away. She ignores him, though, her hands coming up to touch his face, and then she moves closer again. This time it's a real kiss. He could have stopped her, of course, but he is only human after all. If this is going to end badly, then he at least wants this last memory.

Their kiss deepens. He feels her, smells her, tastes her. It's a sensory overload he can't get enough of and that he doesn't want to end. Ever. But at the same time Cal is aware that for once he has to be the one of them who acts reasonable, who doesn't give in to his feelings. He has to be the one to stop this.

It can't happen again.

Not like this.

* * *

**So, what do you think of Cal in this chapter? Was it ****okay to kiss her or shouldn't he have done it?**

**Next chapter: Things get even more intricate. There will be another flashback from Gillian's point of view.**

**(And also some more as to what happens between them ****in the present..**.)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Okay, the thing is that I really want to go through with the original idea that this storyline happened between Cal and Gillian off screen while the timeline of the show continued simultaneously. Since I didn't re-watch all episodes (even if I wish I had the time), the possibility remains, though, that there are scenes or dialogue that contradict or at least don't fit in with what happens in my additional scenes. So, in case you should detect anything, I hope you give me the little leeway I mentioned in my first author's note and enjoy the story, anyway.

Thank you, as always, for your reviews & alerts. They keep me writing and make my muse smile.

This is Gillian's version of events with references to 2x4 Honey and 2x9 Fold Equity.

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still not mine.

* * *

Dr. Gillian Foster used to be a woman of principles. Her field of expertise is a minefield of gray areas. Therefore, in her private life, she prefers clear decisions, straight lines, good or bad and nothing in between. Or rather _used to prefer_ until she realized that her husband had a relapse into drug addiction, until she was confronted with the harsh reality that she would never have own children, until... Cal.

These days, Gillian doesn't know anything anymore. Her world is upside down, and she doesn't know how to make another about-turn so that there is solid ground under her feet again instead of the shaky I'm-not-sure-what-I'm-doing-but-I-also-don't-know- how-to-stop-it scenario she is living in. Lines were a good thing once. They told right from wrong until Cal and she decided to... do what exactly? She can't even say if they decided anything on purpose. Not verbally, at least. Somehow it happened. Then again, it's not her style to blame the circumstances or someone else. Even if Cal certainly is ready to take most of the blame because in a way he started it all, Gillian is well aware that she is just as much to blame. Maybe even more.

Cal started the game, but she participated willingly. She knows why he acts up like a child recently. He tries to rebel against her alleged rules, and she doesn't react simply because she doesn't know what to do, if she even wants to change the rules.

_We need to talk about it, luv, _Cal said to her the day after their first kiss in her hotel room.

Yes, it was only a kiss, or several kisses actually, although it comes close to a miracle that nothing else happened. But somehow the intensity of their kisses was sufficient to cope with the situation that night. When Cal visited her in her hotel room, Gillian didn't know what he was up to until she saw his facial expression change at the split of a second before he moved to kiss her. However, split of a second or not, the fact remains that she could have stopped him, and she didn't. Even if she hadn't expected his kiss, _of course_, she had thought about how it would feel like to kiss him before. And once it was now or never, she didn't reject him. It's as simple, and complicated, as that because of everything that lurks beneath the surface. It was her first step into nowhere land. An unfamiliar territory where, in her imagination, Cal is living all the time, ignoring rules and standards, doing only what he wants. It seemed to be a simple equation – her land of rules and standards hadn't worked out, so maybe the unfamiliar territory of Cal's nowhere land was the right choice. If only.

_We will, Cal. You're absolutely right – we need to talk about what happened. But not now, not with everything that's going on,_ Gillian remembers her answer. She meant each word of it, and Cal understood and agreed. There was so much going on as part of her divorce – organizational matters, let alone the emotional baggage. Delaying their necessary talk appeared to be the logical thing to do. Save that they never caught up on it.

_So, we're okay? _Cal asked her to make sure that the kisses they had shared wouldn't burden their friendship, and Gillian was eager to assure him that yes, absolutely, they were.

And they really were okay in the beginning; their friendship could have survived unscathed unless...

* * *

_Flashback (Gillian's point of view)_

_Yes, Cal, we are okay._ Gillian doesn't lie when she tells Cal that; they are. The days go by; things are as they always were between them – mutual attraction, subtle tension, innuendo. Everything just the same.

Then a deranged man enters their office and takes Cal hostage. He survives; they all survive, but at that day Gillian realizes that _nothing_ is the same anymore. She was aware that she liked Cal. A lot. That she probably enjoys his attention a little too much to classify it as harmless flirting. The moment, though, the man points a gun at Cal's head, something inside her breaks. Gillian knows in an instant that she will never be the same again if Cal dies because of everything that could have been between them, because of everything she feels. No, nothing is the same anymore. It might have been just a kiss, but it set so much more in motion, and they can't go back.

That night, after the hostage-taking, when Cal knocks on her door, they are desperate to be close to each other, to hold each other. Nevertheless, it is not a physical need, not that night. They don't even kiss; their emotional closeness is enough. But it adds another layer to their relationship that is as tender as dangerous. The closer they get emotionally, the higher the risk that this thing between them gets out of control and that they will end up hurting each other.

They get a foretaste of this risk and its consequences when they go to Vegas shortly afterwards. Business takes them there. Anyway, they are both highly aware that this town and its temptations have the ability to reveal Cal's dark side. He is the caring, wonderful man who knocked on her door some nights ago and wanted nothing more than hold her in his arms, but he also is the daring, unpredictable man who can't take his eyes off a blonde that Gillian would describe as slutty (even if she wouldn't say it out loud on a normal day), ignoring in the process that said blonde is on their suspect list. Perhaps it would have been the right time to talk, to address some things. But what exactly? That he apparently has a huge range when it comes to his taste in women? That she doesn't know how his obvious interest in her fits into that? What could she say? How could she start? So, she plays his game instead, teases him as if she isn't affected by his behavior at all, well aware that she irritates him as much as she irritates herself.

He finds her at the bar when evening is about to turn into night.

"Is this seat taken?"

Gillian smiles at him detached. She doesn't know how to act or what to say when he's around as long as they are in Vegas, in the city that turns Cal into another man or at least brings out a side of him she doesn't want to see.

"I was wondering what you're up to tonight," Cal asks and takes the bar stool next to hers.

"Why?" Answering a question with a question. If this is not deflection, then what is? Gillian hopes that he doesn't hear the unease in her voice, but he most likely does.

"Just wondering," Cal replies casually although his face changes exactly the way it did before he kissed her for the first time.

Save that this time Gillian is dead certain kissing is not the only thing he has in mind. Not that she didn't also imagine it. But... Is there even a but? Yes... no... yes, here in Vegas, there is the big, fat BUT that this is not the version of Cal she wants to share a bed with.

Nevertheless, she isn't able to find the right words or any words at all. What is she supposed to say? _I'm not sure I can do this even if I want to because..._ It sounds complicated in her head already. Moreover, it would be in contrast to the new, venturous version of herself.

Gillian avoids eye contact, looking at her drink. No, she can't say anything. Not with her thoughts swirling like this and her emotions running high. She wants him, but not now, not here. All the same, she let's her hand drop down onto her thigh, pulling her dress up. Even months later, she blocks out why she did that although the psychiatrist in her could easily explain that she did it to fulfill the role she had chosen for herself in the hope that it would change her life for the better. Her movement is confident and natural. Still, it feels wrong. Completely, utterly wrong. Cal is almost drunk by Vegas, by the atmosphere of gambling and women. Out of the corner of her eye, Gillian notices how his gaze is fixated on the skin she revealed by pulling her dress up, watches him lick his lips in anticipation. But Vegas does nothing for her, and the expected rush doesn't set in. Obviously, her new self takes a break.

Suddenly, Cal is close beside her, hands at her waist, pulling her toward him. It takes her breath away. Literally and not in a good way. Gillian almost panics. She sent him the wrong signals; she can't do this. Not now. Cal is looking for an adventure. Maybe he wants more in the long run, maybe not. Gillian knows that she means a lot to him, but that doesn't necessarily exclude the possibility that he is able to separate their friendship from their new-found physical closeness, the latter meant to be no more than a fleeting affair. Gillian wants a change, wants a new life. She has no idea as yet, though, how Cal fits in, if she even fits in herself.

Cal notices the change in her behavior and steps back.

"What is it?" he asks confused and worried. She can't blame him. If he is only half as confused as she is right now, he can't think straight.

Again, even months later, Gillian doesn't know (or at least pretends not to know) why she chose those words as an answer. And again, the psychologist in her could easily explain that all she did was speak the truth. She is angry with herself, angry with the other woman Cal seems to have the hots for, angry with him in the first place for being his unpredictable self – the words come out before she even has a chance to give them a second thought.

"I'm not a slut like this other woman, and I won't be a surrogate just because you need to blow off steam in Vegas."

Cal looks at her as if she hit him, and the realization that she hurt him lets her anger disappear in an instant. Now that they are out, Gillian regrets her words. However, the result stays the same. Nothing will happen between them tonight.

Gillian perceives that her hand still clutches the hem of her dress that she pulled up. Shame washes over her, causing her to jump up and practically run away.

"Gillian..." Cal tries to hold her back, but she won't let him.

She also doesn't open the door of her hotel room when he knocks on it later, stands in front of it for what feels like forever, waiting for her to let him in. Sometimes, in her dreams, she still hears his desperate voice.

_Please open the door._

_Let us talk._

_Please._

_Gill..._

Finally, Cal gives up and goes away.

Gillian barely finds sleep that night, and as it turns out the next morning, so did Cal but for completely different reasons. _He slept with the slut._ Cal makes no pretence of it, and it's all Gillian can think of when she sees the two of them together. The blonde is dressed to kill, and Cal has practically written reckless risk taker all over his forehead. No wonder he chose the blonde and not her. Save that he chose her, and she rejected him.

_So, that was your revenge?_ Gillian thinks, trying to remain cool and composed albeit her stomach turns as if she has the worst hangover ever.

She doesn't see the guilty glances Cal darts at her when she isn't looking, doesn't know that Cal also feels as if he has a hangover although he didn't drink that much. Vegas has this effect on him. Whenever he is here, he ends up doing something that is not good for him. Like sleeping with the wrong woman for the wrong reasons.

They ignore the elephant in the room until they head home again.

"Can we talk about it?" Cal asks when they have a moment on their own.

She didn't expect him to address it so soon, expected him to wait until what happened would be water under the bridge. Then again, will it ever be? So, _can they_ talk about it or rather _does she want to_?

His facial expression gives away that he anticipates the rejection, and for a brief moment, Gillian feels an almost overwhelming urge to talk, _really talk_, to him, to address everything – the whole truth even if it means that there will be no happiness as Cal always likes to quote. But then she remembers how she could smell the cheap perfume of the other woman on him the next morning.

"Actually, no, we can't," she answers instead. "At least not now."

Cal watches her face with such blatant intensity that Gillian blushes.

"Will you at least let me say sorry?" he then adds contritely.

They are about to leave Vegas, and Cal is on his way back to the caring, wonderful man who is her friend and maybe more or maybe not. All Gillian can see, though, is the risk taker who hurt her badly.

"Yes," she says and gives him as much after all, leaving open whether this includes that she accepts his apology.

He doesn't ask to clarify. Perhaps he is no risk taker when it comes to her (well, he isn't, but he only tells her later).

In the end, it's not the kiss that changed their relationship. It's the unpredictability they can't handle. Reliable, stable – that's how their relationship used to be. These days, it is fragile, characterized by qualms. They still trust each other as friends and business partners but as to the rest...

It is the first time Gillian silently has to admit that they are not okay anymore no matter how hard they try to pretend otherwise.

* * *

_Present Day_

Cal wants to stop. Gillian knew it even before he tried to push her away softly. It was written all over his face when he opened the door. That's why she approached him rather aggressively. He might want to resist her, but she is well aware that he won't manage to go through with it if she puts enough effort in it. Already, and no matter how hard he is trying to fight it, she feels his resolve crumbling.

Even while they are kissing, though, Gillian can't get the words out of her mind. So similar back then and earlier today.

_So, we're okay?_ It felt so natural to tell him they were back then.

_You tell me we're okay. _She couldn't tell him the same earlier today because they aren't, and they both know it.

But here they are, and as wrong and twisted as it is and as much as they should rather talk than do this, Gillian feels how the tension of the day retreats and gives way to the anticipation of an impending release. Only Cal can make her feel that way.

Nevertheless, she is not remotely as confident of her actions as she probably appears to be. Gillian wants Cal, desperately. However, the doubts are there, overshadowing every touch and every kiss.

Does she really want it to happen like this? Again?

* * *

**Forgive me for teasing you a bit more with the last passage because things didn't actually move forward, but I liked the identical ending in relation to the last chapter.**

**Next chapter: Not like this? Like what? It will be**** explained, and things will move forward eventually. Promise!**

**Thank you for reading & reviewing if you feel like it. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Judging by the decreasing number of reviews, this story doesn't seem to go down well with readers. Hm, is that so? Or is everybody just on vacation?

However, here is the next chapter. Be warned that things get tense and even a bit ugly between Cal and Gillian. There is a reason why the story is labeled as "angst". It has to get worse before it gets better. Rating is a strong "T" for content and language (including an f***-bomb). References to 2x11 Beat the devil.

My heartfelt thanks to those of you who reviewed, PM'ed me or added the story to your alert/favorites. Your support and kind words encouraged me to continue with the story. Writing would be very lonely without you.

PS: I'm a little behind with reviewing other stories and answering PM and promise to catch up on it on the weekend.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Never were, never will be, and this is so sad.

* * *

Cal has a reputation as a womanizer, but the truth is he didn't sleep with half as much women as everyone seems to believe. Deep down, he is a man for a long-term relationship, wants the commitment. Considering the way he behaves most of the time, it just doesn't look like it at first sight simply for the reason that after his divorce he isn't willing to settle for less than perfect and as long as he isn't ready to settle, he is on the hunt.

_Gillian._

Maybe he _is_ ready to settle. Right from the start, she fascinated him as a woman, as an expert, let alone her affectionate and interesting personality. That's why he asked her to be his business partner. The fact that they became friends, very close friends, in addition to it was an unexpected, marvelous gift. Due to her upcoming divorce, she has become an option, his obsession. It was a completely selfish act to kiss her that night in her hotel room although it was too wonderful to regret it. He would be lying if he pretended that he didn't welcome her decision to postpone their talk about it afterwards even if it was him who addressed the subject (he felt obliged to do so in order to ease his guilty conscience). But she told him they were okay, and that was all he needed to know although he was aware that she meant okay _as_ _friends_ and his newish interest in her has nothing to do with being friends.

Yes, maybe he is ready to settle, indeed. He still is also on the hunt, though, because this certain prey always seems to be one step ahead of him, and for once in his life, he doesn't know what to do. Well, except for lashing out with words in an effort to hurt her or act like a stubborn child. As he did in Vegas.

After their kiss and the decision to postpone their necessary talk about it, part of Cal hoped that his interest in Gillian would pass, simply go away, so that they could go back to being friends and harmless flirting. But it didn't. Instead, he wanted her more and more with every passing day. To this day, that hasn't changed. Her behavior drives him crazy sometimes, but whenever he looks at her, he doesn't care because all he can think of is that he wants her in that _worst possible way_ he admitted to Burns once. Whenever he thinks that she finally lets him _have her_, though, not only for now but for a bit longer (he can't even think the word forever in this context; it has too much potential to hurt him if it, _they_, won't work), she backs out. As she did in Vegas.

That night, at the bar, Cal could think of nothing else than holding Gillian close. Her body pressed against his. And not with several layers of clothes between them. No, skin against skin. And when she pulled her dress up, he could almost feel her, imagined how it would be, his body screaming in anticipation. One second the sweetest release was within arm's reach and the next it was miles away. _She_ was miles away after she practically ran out on him and barricaded herself in her hotel room. He knew she was in there because he could hear her pace back and forth. Her soft steps. Unmistakeably. She had to hear it in his voice. The desperation, the need, the guilt (again because another time it was him who initiated something like that). She is the voice expert after all, isn't she? Nevertheless, she didn't open the door, didn't talk to him no matter how desperately he begged her.

Cal had promised himself not to do anything foolish in Vegas and ended up going for the worst of all possible choices. Not because Gillian rejected him. It hurt, but it also was to be expected, at least to a certain extent and without the running away from him part. Everything was still fresh. Her divorce. Gillian isn't the kind of woman to sleep with the next best man just because she is not married anymore. Even if it is him, no, correction, _especially not_ if it is him. After all, she is the reasonable one of them. (_Or used to be_, Cal rectifies his thoughts because lately it seems to be the other way round although he can hardly be considered to be reasonable, and that says a lot about the changes that took place.) Back then, though, it was Vegas, and she was right to reject him. If only for the reason that as much as he felt certain, he still was blinded by the lights of that city.

But even if Gillian was right to reject him, the fact that she didn't talk to him no matter how hard he tried to get through to her was the one thing Cal couldn't handle. And he reacted Vegas-style – over the top, overstepping the boundaries of good taste. He hurt her badly, saw the pained expression she tried to hide the next morning when she found out and many days afterwards. As soon as he saw it, he regretted what he had done. Deeply. Because what Gillian thought had happened wasn't the truth. She had blamed him that he wanted to use her as a surrogate for the slut. Bloody hell! It was exactly vice versa. How could she not know that? But how could he tell her in a believable way after what he had done?

He still wants Gillian in that raw, primal way that most likely would make her blush furiously if she were able to read his thoughts. Even more, though, Cal wants them to be happy again, close. Considering the risk that after Vegas he constantly has been on the verge of losing her for good the entire time, Cal is (and was all along) willing to settle for friends and nothing more if this is the only choice he has.

But every time he has come to this conclusion something happens that throws him completely off track. Like a sadistic killer who almost took his life. He should have known that the only thing that would let Gillian forget about everything and simply go for what she wanted was the fear to lose him for good.

* * *

_Flashback (Cal's point of view)_

He could be dead. A sadistic killer – a young student, for God's sake – tortured and almost killed him today. In the end, they caught the killer, and he survived. Everything should be fine, but it isn't. Cal is more shaken by the events of the day than he wants to admit, and usually he doesn't need to admit it because there is someone else worrying about him and taking care of him. Gillian. Today... rather not. When he asked her to have dinner with him, she pretended to have work to do. It was so obvious that it was a pretense, and that he knew it, that she didn't even bother to fake it any better.

So, this is how it is going to be from now on? They kissed, he screwed it all up in Vegas, and now he has to pay for it because she keeps her distance. Cal hates it, but today is not the day to find a solution, let alone fix it. Today is the day to go to a bar and drink himself into oblivion. The alcohol leaves a bad taste in his mouth, though, and he heads home before he is as drunk as he intended to get.

His house is empty and silent. Emily is out of town, visiting some friends for a couple of days. There should be someone else he could call in a situation like this besides Emily or Gillian, but there isn't. Cal doesn't have many friends, and over the years he seems to be losing more of the old ones than gaining new ones. So, no, there is no one he can call. The only person he wants at his side right now is Gillian, but apparently she doesn't want to be here, doesn't want him.

Save that his phone rings when he slouches on his sofa, and a voice that doesn't sound like Gillian but is Gillian asks him whether Emily is home or not. When he tells her no, she isn't, Gillian hangs up without another word. The alcohol makes Cal a bit slower so that it takes him a while to digest what just happened and call Gillian back. His call goes straight to her voicemail like the next two. He can't make sense of any of this and especially doesn't understand why she asked about Emily. Despite the alcohol, he doesn't give in to the sudden urge to call and embarrass his daughter in front of her friends, being the overprotective dad he is, but sends her a text. Emily texts him back immediately. Everything is fine; she misses him, too, and now please go to bed, dad, and let me have an own life. Therefore, nothing is wrong with Emily, leaving the question what is wrong with Gillian.

Just when Cal decides to drive over to her, a little drunk or not, to find out what is going on, there is a knock on his door. It's her. Funny how he realizes for the first time that he also knows the way she knocks on doors. Is there anything he doesn't know about her? Yes, for example why she came over tonight. Or how her soft skin feels that she hides underneath her sexy clothes.

_Focus,_ Cal thinks, pushing back his alcohol induced thoughts, and opens the door.

She practically throws herself at him and into his arms. He doesn't know how, but somehow she manages to kick the door shut before they almost lose balance and stumble against the wall in his hallway.

Gillian didn't even say hello, but her tongue is already in his mouth, and her hands are already under his shirt. For a brief moment, Cal wonders whether he fell asleep and is dreaming because he isn't that drunk or is he? No, this is neither a dream nor his drunken imagination. If he were too drunk, he wouldn't feel it all so clearly, almost precisely. The way her fingernails scratch first his back and then his groin with a desperate urgency. If he were dreaming, he wouldn't be able to see her face. Cal had countless dreams very similar to what is happening right now. He always knew it was Gillian. Nonetheless, he never could see her face. Here and now, he can. When she lets go of him to take a breath (and only now, he realizes that he barely touched her, just held her tight to avoid that they lose balance), one look at her face answers all his questions. Why she is here. What she wants from him. What she needs. All he sees is agony. Pure, heartbreaking agony.

"You could be dead," she whispers, confirming what he saw. "I know that you're alive. But I need to feel you to make sure you really are. Please Cal. Nothing else matters right now."

_Nothing else matters._ Gillian's code for telling Cal that her actions do not mean forgiveness for Vegas and don't make good for words they didn't say as yet but that she needs this, anyway.

_Need. Desire. _Those were the other things Cal saw in her face. In the dim light, he isn't able to see her pupils, but he has no doubt that they are as dilated as his.

Later he asks himself whether he would have been able to resist her if he hadn't been drunk. Then again, Cal knows that he would never have been able to resist her, drunk or sober. Not the way she offered herself to him on a silver platter. Not the way she pressed her body against his and kissed him. Fierce and slow with an intensity that turned his legs to jelly. Literally. When he opened the door and she threw herself at him, he wanted to take her then and there in his hallway. When things progressed, though, all he wanted was to lay down with her, next to her, on top of her or vice versa, whatever, as long as he could hold and kiss her.

They end up on the floor in his hallway; sofa or bed seem to be miles away, impossible to reach. The last pieces of clothing are pulled off and kicked away until finally it's skin on skin.

"Don't be gentle," Gillian whispers when Cal tries to hold himself back.

It is the last thing he expects her to say, and yet, no other words could be a better match for the searing pain they are both feeling. He because he almost died, she because she almost lost him. There is no way to be tender and gentle with all this pain inside. Therefore, he isn't, but of course he watches out for signs to be just as _not gentle_ as she likes it or at least needs it right now.

Cal can't tell for the world whether what happens between them is only passion caused by desperation or maybe more. Well, he can't tell when it comes to Gillian. When it comes to himself, he is dead certain that whatever doubts he might have had before and no matter how twisted everything is, this is what he wants to settle for.

* * *

_Present Day (Gillian's point of view)_

Gillian always despised her ex-husband because of his addiction, because he took drugs. Maybe he still takes them; she doesn't know since they are not in touch anymore. Lately she wonders, though, whether she owns him an apology because she also has an addiction. Cal is her drug. He enticed her into wanting more with his kiss, and it worked. Good God, and how it worked. There were and still are so many emotions trapped inside of her. Yet, sometimes nothing else matters than the need to feel him and be close to him. As if she is drowning and he is the only person in the world who can save her.

Like now. _You tell me we're okay._ She needs them to be okay as much as he does. And if they can't be okay at all levels, can't work it out with words, she at least needs to _feel_ that they are okay. Their stupid argument earlier today. His childish behavior to hold back information on purpose and justify it with that silly _cat and mouse_ quote. Her equally childish non-reaction, walking out on him. They need to erase that with their actions. They did it before, and it worked, kept her from drowning although she doesn't know exactly what it means to him. Or rather she doesn't know it _at all_. After-sex-talk is not part of their routine. Well, as far as you can call an exception that took place only a couple of times in recent months a routine.

However, tonight doesn't seem to be as easy as the other times. Cal is different and that makes her doubt her own behavior even more. If he doesn't want it like this, does she? Then again, it's not about what she wants, never has been. It's about what she _needs_. She couldn't stop even if she wanted to. The only one who is able to stop her is Cal. And he obviously gives it a shot.

He holds her upper arms as if he is not sure whether he wants to pull her toward him or push her away. Well, he _tries_ to push her away – as much she already realized. But his body wants her and betrays him. Gillian knows it, and he knows that she knows.

"Don't try to fight it, Cal," she mumbles, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Gill... luv... we shouldn't do this," he attempts another time to resist her, practically muttering the words into her mouth while they are kissing.

If everything wasn't so screwed up, she would have laughed about his words because he is right and wrong at the same time. No, they probably shouldn't do this. But what else should they do? Continue to live in that world in between where every argument has the potential to drive them apart? Isn't it better to remind themselves now and then what is at risk although it is the wrong way to express it?

As it is, she doesn't laugh but ignores him; her hands reach for his belt. Gillian senses that Cal is aware his time is running out. He might want to stop her but if he doesn't stop her now, he won't stop her at all. His body is already busy convincing him of the contrary.

Then, all of a sudden, his hands grab her wrists, and her movements finally come to a halt. Gillian leans back irritated, but Cal seems to be thankful for the distance between their bodies so that he can get a grip on himself. She knows he can't concentrate on anything when she is that close to him. It's their balance of power. A very ironic balance because it's his words versus her body language, and shouldn't it be the other way round considering their field of expertise?

Tonight, though, it doesn't seem to be up to her what happens between them. Cal made his choice. He lets go of her wrists and steps away from her. Apparently, this is the first time that he manages to resist her even if it has to be painful in the true sense of the word. Gillian tries to look at his face and not let her gaze drop to his apparent arousal. He backs out of their little game, and she doesn't know why.

"Okay then," she says, not knowing whether she is angry or sad or simply too exhausted to care.

But when she turns around and heads for the front door, Cal walks past her in a flash and blocks it.

"No. You're not leaving. Not like that."

Gillian stands right under the lamp of his hallway and knows he can read her, see the special expression that is reserved only for him because whenever he doesn't hurt her, he makes her mad and vice versa. She came over to save herself from drowning, and now, it seems as if tonight will be the first night that her savior let's her drown without mercy. There is no way she will stay to let him watch it.

"Bloody hell, Gillian," Cal hisses. "What's wrong with you? I can see that you're not okay. Talk to me."

She wants to say a lot of things like _What about you?_ or _Why don't you start?, _but anger gains the upper hand, nagging at her and forcing the mean words out.

"Get out of my way."

He doesn't. Instead, he steps even closer, his desperation and rage filling the room until it feels as if she breathes it in.

She thought he was angry when he confronted her with their finances, but that was nothing compared to what she sees and feels at this moment. Gillian has never been afraid of Cal before, no matter how weird or crazy he behaved. Right now, though, she has to suppress the urge to flinch and step back. Even more so, when she hears the words he spits at her.

"So, you came here to fuck me, aye? Well, consider it a vain attempt as long as you don't talk to me first. I'm a little shy."

* * *

**Jeez! All the angst. Even I want them to get better now (and they will, just a little bit more angst maybe).**

**Every review is very appreciated (long, short, constructive criticism, ****praise, **your call). ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** First of all, let me say a heartfelt thank you to everyone who left a review or PM'ed me to soothe my fragile muse.

Second of all, let me say sorry for the delay in updating. Blame it on real life and the length of this chapter (probably the longest I've ever written). I didn't want to spilt it up, though, because this is the turning point for Gillian and Cal so that things can get better between them. I tried to wrap up season two (incl. the Burns storyline) and the beginning of season three and hope it worked and is not too complicated. For the sake of this story, I pretended that 2x12 Sweet sixteen happened the next day after 2x11 Beat the devil.

This chapter continues right where the last one ended (in the middle of their argument). The passage in the middle in italics is a flashback. Since the story takes more and more place in the present now and is told from both of their points of view, I gave up my earlier structure to label flashbacks and presence in the hope that it is self-explanatory.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. This is just for fun.

* * *

_It's over._

That's all Gillian can think. Cal's harsh words. His demeanor. Like an animal ready to attack any moment. As if she was his worst enemy. He never talked to her in that tone of voice or behaved like that towards her before. Whatever it was between them, it seems to be shattered now.

Her instinct tells her to flee, to get out, but Cal is standing between her and the door, blocking her way out. Gillian hears shallow and fast breathing, aware that it is her own and that she is going to hyperventilate if she isn't able to calm down. Her vision already gets blurry, and her legs turn to jelly; she blindly reaches out to steady herself. This is the one thing she didn't want to happen. She is falling apart, drowning, and Cal has a seat in the front row so that he will see everything.

Just when Gillian knows she is not able to stand upright any longer, she feels Cal hands, a soft and tender touch that stands in marked contrast to his earlier outrage. He leads her to his sofa and helps her sit down. While her pulse is pounding mercilessly in her ears, Gillian hears him clatter with crockery in the background. Shortly afterwards, he carefully pushes a glass of water into her hands.

"Here, drink this," Cal mumbles, and she thinks she feels his hand stroke her hair affectionately but considering her condition, she can't be sure.

Her whole body is shaking. With every sip, though, Gillian feels how she calms down more and more until her breathing is regular again and her vision not blurry anymore. Only now, she realizes that Cal is not sitting next to her on the sofa but right in front of her on the coffee table. His facial expression is not difficult to read. He is worried about her and probably sitting so close to her so that he can catch her in case she hyperventilates and loses consciousness.

Maybe falling apart isn't as bad as she thought. Maybe he won't let her drown after all.

"Thank you," she says, her voice faint. Despite the weird situation, she wants him to know that she appreciates his concern.

They fall silent, and Gillian could tell Cal that he doesn't need to sit that close to her because she is better. Then again, and no matter how much the extent of his rage scared her just moments ago, his nearness soothes her, makes her feel comforted and protected.

She can't look at him, though, not as long as all these unanswered questions hang in the air between them. Instead, she looks down and sees his hands twitch in his lap, longing to touch her. Most likely he avoids the physical contact because he senses that her fight or flight reflex is still trying to gain the upper hand and that she will jump up and run out the moment he decides to actually touch her.

"Probably should apologize for what I said to you, but the thing is, luv, I don't want to," Cal's words break the silence.

Gillian feels his gaze on her skin. He is looking at her, waiting for a reaction. She takes another sip of water to buy herself some time even if she knows that he sees through what she is doing. Eventually, she nods. Aside from his choice of words, Cal was right to address things. He doesn't snap for no reason. Cal is complicated, insufferable on some days, but his words and actions always have a cause, especially when it comes to her. They can't keep running away, have reached a point at which they are running away from themselves. She is tired, so tired, and by the way Cal looks at her, he is exhausted, too.

"Okay," she says, straightening herself and finally looking at him. There is surprise and something else (relief?) in his face. "But maybe you should apologize for other things you said or did," Gillian continues. "And so should I."

The atmosphere between them changes. This is _the_ talk, the argument they, no _she_, always avoided until he stopped trying to address it.

_It's over. _The words force their way back in Gillian's thoughts. Yes, something definitely will come to an end tonight, but maybe it doesn't necessarily mean that everything is lost. Maybe there is a chance that this crazy, sexy, insufferable man and she have a future that doesn't include one of them leaving the company or breaking with the other for good. She never thought that could be even remotely possible. That's why she always avoided to talk to him, stalling, delaying the obvious. On the other hand, she also never would have thought it could be remotely possible that Cal talked to her the way he did. He seems to be much more bothered about the circumstances than she was aware of. She studies his face some more, his inscrutable eyes that look back at her, flickering now and then due to a hint of uncertainty. Uncertainty and... _hurt_. Gillian didn't know that her behavior, that _she_, hurt him. Angry? Yes, she knows without a doubt that he was and still is angry with her. Heard it loud and clear just minutes ago. It's the reason why he lashed out verbally and behaved badly recently. Hurt? No, she didn't know that, and it sets something free deep inside of her that makes her chest tighten. Suddenly, there is a lump in her throat, and she has to swallow.

The situation between them had been tense and screwed up even before they slept together for the first time. Now, Gillian realizes that it was her who laid the ground for things to go downhill afterwards...

* * *

_That night, after they had slept together for the first time, they eventually fell asleep on his sofa (at least they had made it as far as there because the floor had been too uncomfortable after a while). Sometime, in the middle of the night, Gillian woke up and sneaked out of Cal's house. Without waking him up, without leaving a note, without even kissing him goodbye. To this day, she doesn't know whether he woke up while she was getting dressed and just pretended to be asleep. She never asked. However, she left and spent the rest of the night wide awake in her own house, thinking about what to do next. The sex had been great, but there hadn't been an emotional connection between them. It had been how she had expected it to be, how she had expected _Cal_ to be. (Or perhaps, it had been _her_ who had managed to leave her emotions outside when she had walked over his doorstep, but Gillian wasn't able to realize that back then, too many emotions clouding her judgement.) All night, she was shivering and didn't know whether it was due to the exciting memories or her utter fear to lose him. Two sides of the same coin. _

_At sunrise, Gillian still had no idea how to handle the situation or what to tell Cal. But when she arrived at the office, an explosion saved the day for her, so to speak. People were hurt. Lives were in danger. Their own lives. Cal and Gillian were confronted with the demons of their past, with an old case they had believed to be over and done. All that came to the fore, and they agreed with a brief glance that the rest had to wait. _

_Unfortunately, there was even more to the old case than mortal danger. Gillian had to admit a lie to Cal. A lie she had told back then when they both had been working for the Pentagon, back then when they had met for the first time – psychologist and patient. It was a lie she had told to save his life and the life of his family; it hadn't been selfish at all that she had been keeping the truth from him the entire time. Nevertheless, it was a lie, and it was the worst possible moment for Gillian to confess._

_When the threat finally was over, Gillian did the unavoidable; she told Cal everything. He forgave her almost immediately and took her in his arms, allowing her to indulge in the feeling that everything between them was okay. In fact, considering all that happened, they both needed that moment of closeness – emotionally and physically – even if they both knew that it wasn't over. Therefore, after her confession and their reconciliation, Gillian went back to her office and waited. It didn't take long._

"_Was that the only lie you told me?" Cal asked the moment he came in at her door. _

"_You mean aside from all the little white lies we tell every day?" Gillian made a futile attempt to ease their conversation; an attempt he didn't even acknowledge with a reaction, let alone an answer._

"_Yes, it was," she relented. _

_Cal gave some thought to her answer only to ask another question. One that didn't actually surprise her. In the context of the lie she had admitted, it all suddenly seemed to be much more complicated though._

"_What about last night?"_

"_Last night wasn't a lie," Gillian whispered, her voice burdened with emotion. _

_He could accuse her of many things when it came to last night, and she didn't know as yet how she would or could describe what had happened between them, but it definitely hadn't been a lie. If anything, it had been a truth so painful that she had no name for it._

_She had looked down when she had said that and when Gillian eventually looked up at Cal again, he was studying her, his gaze so intense that it made her skin crawl._

_Back then, she was so worn out that she didn't give thought to it, believed it would be enough to tell him the truth or at least what she believed to be true. _Last night wasn't a lie._ She should have known that Cal wasn't looking for what it _wasn't_. He was looking for what it _was_, what it had _meant to her_. She overlooked so much, maybe even could have seen a glimpse of what he didn't say, didn't dare to ask, in his face if she had been able to look beyond her own fears._

Love.

_They hadn't made love; he wasn't delusional (and neither was Gillian). It had been just sex – quick, rough and desperate. Cal had wanted to make love to her – save that Gillian wouldn't let him. Every time he had slowed down or tried to be gentler, she had urged him on, almost as if she had wanted to get it over with even if he could hear and feel how much she enjoyed it. Cal had been aware that she meant a lot to him, more than anyone else in the whole world aside from his daughter. Yet, he hadn't admitted to himself what he actually felt for her until he had heard the door close behind her last night when she had walked out on him. The sound had ripped his heart out; there was no use to deny it any longer. He loved her whereas Gillian... _

_Cal simply didn't know, her face more or less blank while he was looking at her, studying her, eager to find any micro expression that would give him even the slightest hint. There was none, though, save for confusion and desperation but that was to be expected after their day (not to mention the night). He should have looked closer, longer, shouldn't have been afraid. Maybe then he would have seen it – buried deep down under so many other emotions that got in the way and made it impossible for her to see it herself back then even if she felt it. _

_As it was, Cal didn't see anything while Gillian's scattered thoughts were making her dizzy. He always seemed to handle his affairs so easily. Perhaps it could work for them, too. They went back such a long way – perhaps they would be able to handle it, too. Some kissing and sex would do no harm in the long run, wouldn't it? So many lies that tried to convince her. So many truths that failed to make their voices heard. If Gillian had been honest with herself, she would have realized that this was one of the lies that purred nonsense into her ears, that she wanted anything but be one of his affairs. _

_The fact remained, though, that she also didn't know what she wanted at that point. Yes, she wanted Cal in more than last night's don't-be-gentle way, but that included all his flaws and the risk that he would hurt her – again. Vegas. His passion for gambling. His unpredictability. Vegas was everywhere, and Cal was not someone for the long haul. It always came back to that. Gillian was highly aware of the difference between indulging in a fantasy (even if she had granted herself a weak moment to actually let it come true the night before, well, at least the physical part of it) or dealing with the harsh reality (where disappointment and hurt would be far too high a price for whatever fleeting happiness they might find in her book). Gillian knew they had reached a point at which being together was the logical next step; she knew that she was drawn to Cal irresistibly against her better judgement and despite the fact that he was everything she wasn't. Except that it wouldn't work. Even more so because she still hadn't found her new place in the world after her divorce. _

_So, if you had asked Gillian back then, she wouldn't have been able to tell whether she loved Cal or not. In fact, she would have probably denied it. (Proof that even the best psychologists can be wrong sometimes.) Instead..._

"_Can__ we give each other a little time to digest everything that happened?" Gillian asked when it became clear that Cal wouldn't comment her statement, ignoring what it did or did not mean for the time being_.

_She knew that she owed him more. Yet, there simply wasn't more she had to give at the moment. Like Cal, Gillian could have seen so much more in his face if she had taken a closer look. But she was too confused, her mind and body in such an uproar that she almost felt consumed by him. And that had stirred the need in her to distance herself from him and led to her question. _

_Later, Cal was angry with himself that he had agreed, that he had let her get out the easy way. Another time. Stalling, delaying. It was the third time in a row. After their kiss, after Vegas, and now, after the first time they had slept together. He, of all people, should have seen the red warning sign. Considering his options and the very real possibility that she would have rejected him if he had insisted on clearing things up at a moment's notice, though, he had preferred to give his consent. It had been the choice between the devil and the deep blue sea. Not an actual choice. More like a necessity given the circumstances. Cal wanted to ask Gillian so many things. _Who are you?_ being the most pressing of them. The woman he saw every day at work wasn't the woman anymore he had once known inside out (or that's what he had thought). That woman hadn't lied to him and hadn't slept with men just to fulfill a physical need. All the same, he loved her. Because. Despite. Either way. _

_It didn't take Cal long to realize that Gillian's request to _give each other a little time_ actually had been a synonym for distancing herself from him. The air that surrounded him suddenly was colder. Her warmth – the warmth of her voice, her smile, her body, suddenly was a constant absence in his life. Somehow, she managed to make it all appear as completely normal on the surface, but underneath there was that big black wormhole they didn't talk about._

_Cal knew his reaction was wrong. Probably. Most likely. Oh well, who was he trying to fool? It was wrong. Period. But he did it, anyway. Flirted with another suspect/client/investor. Or maybe more. And made sure that Gillian noticed it, all of it – the flirting and the maybe more. Their growing distance was slowly but surely killing him. And since she wouldn't let him talk to her, it was the only option he had to express his feelings – hurting her as much as she was hurting him. _

_Just when he thought that it didn't work, Gillian called him another time in the middle of the night, and their little game continued. Cal's sense told him not to do it, to reject her. Then again, and contrary to popular belief, he is only human after all. He loved Gillian and if there was no other possibility to be close to her, he was willing to settle for wanting her and giving in to this need. After that, it happened again a couple of times. Not often, only now and then. Barely enough to make good for their distance in day-to-day life but always enough to keep him wanting more afterwards. Desperately. _

* * *

_Maybe you should apologize for other things you said or did. And so should I._

Cal watches her impassively, or at least he makes it look that way, letting her words sink in.

"So... name it. What should I apologize for?" he eventually asks.

"No, that's not how it works," Gillian answers quietly. "If I have to tell you, then it counts for nothing."

Cal gives some more thought to that. Then...

"I apologize for everything that happened in Vegas and after Vegas," he says. "But only until... Burns. I will apologize for _nothing_ that happened afterwards. That's your turn, luv."

Gillian is relieved and a little surprised that Cal apologized with almost no hesitation. An apology for his reckless behavior that sometimes even endangered his life, for his inappropriate flirts and affairs. She has a vague idea why he doesn't want to apologize for his silly behavior during and after Burns. Gillian always knew Cal had a problem with him no matter how relaxed he tried to appear to be. Let alone that she never actually spoke with Cal about him and the altered circumstances. Right now, though, something else is bothering her. If Cal is sorry for _everything_ that happened between Vegas and Burns, he also is sorry for sleeping with her back then. At least that is the implication.

"For everything?" She has to get to the bottom of it.

Cal is still sitting right in front of her although they still have no physical contact. So close, and yet, so far away from each other.

Gillian has no explanation how they can, or rather could, go from friends to lovers within hours or sometimes even within what felt like the split of a second. Somehow, they are everything for each other – business partners, friends, lovers. They just can't be it at the same time, and it is getting increasingly difficult to overcome or ignore the gaps between those worlds. She has no idea how their talk will end, which world will win and who they will be for each other afterwards.

"Yes."

She can no longer dwell on her thoughts. Cal's answer brings her back down to earth with a jolt. It takes her a moment to realize that he answered to her question. Then she realizes what his answer means or at least what she believes it means.

"Yes?" Gillian all but shouts incredulously and leans back, away from him. He just more or less told her that he regrets their little nighttime intermezzos.

"Yes, luv," Cal repeats seemingly unfazed, only the clenching of his teeth giving away that he isn't.

He told her that he doesn't want her, didn't want her in the first place. Right in her face. Sitting right in front of her. At least that is what she understood. And yet, he slept with her whenever she knocked on his door in the middle of the night. How dare he? But as soon as Gillian even thinks about jumping up and getting out, she feels Cal's hands on her arms, pressing her down softly.

"Gill... Look at me..."

She hears his voice, but she can't bring herself to look into his eyes, is repulsed and ashamed of what his statement means.

"Bloody hell. Look at me, Gillian."

It's the fear in his voice that makes her look at him finally not the harsh words.

"You and me," he says, "That was great but wrong, and you know why. I should have stopped it, but I couldn't. That's what I apologized for and nothing else – whatever you think you just heard."

Normally, Cal might not be able to read her albeit sometimes he can, and this time, he got it right, saw the rejection she felt in her face. However, referring to their nights as something that was _great but wrong_ doesn't make it much better.

Then Gillian remembers her own words after their first night together, after she had literally escaped out of his house. _Last night wasn't a lie. _She remembers how important it was to her that he believed her when she said those words months ago. Save that now, she realizes that she was wrong. It _was_ a lie. She gave her body to him that night but not her heart. Their first night was a lie, so were the nights after that followed, and so would have been this night if he had let her go through with it. It is painful to admit to herself that what happened between them came much closer to the horrible word Cal used when he yelled at her angrily than to her imagination (because whenever Gillian thinks of those nights, she thinks of how they _made _love). Cal is right. It was great but wrong. She wonders whether he realized it back then already (and if yes, why he didn't call her out on it) or not until tonight. Either way, he is aware of it now, and so is she.

Cal's hands still linger loosely on her arms to hold her on the spot.

"I won't leave," she assures him.

He hesitates, studying her carefully, and eventually takes his hands away.

"Your turn," he reminds her of her words and that they both should apologize.

"I apologize for not letting you talk to me, for making things even more complicated," Gillian says softly. "I know we should have talked, but I was so confused and didn't know what was right or wrong." She makes a pause, and her voice drops down to a whisper. "I also apologize for coming to you in those nights. You are right it was great but wrong, and it was my mistake not yours. I got you into that."

Cal's facial expression softens but then his eyes darken, and she wonders what she said (or didn't say) that seems to fuel his anger anew. He stands up all of a sudden and walks around the coffee table that works as a barrier or shield between them now.

"So, you decided to stop coming by at night because you realized it was a mistake and exchanged me for Burns," Cal says with a snarl. "What about tonight? You're back because you couldn't find a new Burns in time?"

Cal's emotions are like a roller coaster. One minute, he is abuzz with tenderness and affection, wants to take Gillian in his arms and tell her that everything will be fine, and the next minute, her innocent, beautiful face is nothing but a provocation because he can't believe that she went so easily from one man (him) to the other (Burns), making him want to lash out and hurt her.

Burns... Cal said he would apologize for everything _until Burns_. Gillian knows he was jealous. He already was jealous of other men even _before_ their kiss and their nighttime encounters. Therefore, she was prepared to apologize for whatever hurt she might have caused him by being with another man. His accusation and choice of words fueled her anger, too, though. There will be no apology for Burns. Gillian tries to bite back her rage and suppress an equally improper answer. Ignoring Cal's outbursts is one of her specialties. She can handle an out-of-control Cal in her sleep. Usually. Tonight? Not so much.

"Dave? That was one affair, Cal. _One_. While you had plenty. And you know damn well that I didn't come to you while Dave and I were together. So, what's the point?"

That leaves him speechless for a moment. Because the point is... so much. Let alone that he just heard Gillian Foster swear. Obviously, he touched a nerve.

"_I,_" he accentuates, "had _no affair_. Not after we started..." His hands gesture back and forth between them, the implication being _sleeping together_.

"Oh, please, Cal," Gillian snorts. "Tell that to someone else. What about – what was her name – Clara?" The suspect/client/investor.

"Didn't sleep with her," he states. "Only was interested in your reaction."

This time, it's Gillian's turn to be speechless. The surprise at his admission is written all over face, and Cal's thoughts use the time to stray. What he told her is the truth, but he didn't realize until now that his plan backfired. By flirting with Clara, he intended Gillian to come and talk to him about Clara (and about them in the process). Instead, she assumed he slept with her and decided to have an affair herself with Burns. Cal tastes bile. A long-con that went totally haywire. Moreover, though, it surprises Cal that Gillian came to him on some nights even if she assumed he was sleeping with Clara. So much for Gillian Foster being a good girl. It irritates and excites him at the same time. He almost dreads what else he will learn about her until this is over. Then again, everything he learns makes him want her more, love her more. She has so many layers, and he wants to peel off all of them. There is one ace, though, he has up his sleeve. An ace that caused him many sleepless nights.

"And most important, luv," he adds, "I didn't love her." _But you loved Burns._ The words remain unspoken. Gillian understands the insinuation, anyway.

Did she love Burns? It's not the first time she asks herself that but always denied herself an honest answer. She told Ben that she was in love with Dave when she wanted Ben to do a background check on him. But the truth is, as much as she _wanted_ to love Dave – _wanted_ so bad to be in love with him because it seemed to be the only chance to get away from Cal, to get over him – it only worked when they were together, when there was no Cal. Not in her thoughts and not in real life. Cal had proven that he wasn't the one for the long haul. Vegas had been no exception. It had been the rule. When he had an affair with Clara – no, it was only a flirt, she has to correct herself, but she didn't know it back then because he made sure to rub her nose in whatever was going on between him and Clara – it was the icing on the cake. She needed to risk making the break whenever there would be the chance, and Burns was the chance. If she is honest with herself, she and Burns were doomed to fail right from the start. _Yes, I want her. In the worst possible way._ When Cal said that, even if it was meant to distract and get them out of a dangerous situation, her body reacted instantly. She was reminded of every kiss, every touch they ever shared. She wouldn't have been able to stay away from Cal much longer and would have ended her affair with Burns even if it hadn't been over that night, anyway.

"Um," Gillian has trouble sorting her thoughts. "The threat concerning your finances, Wallowski, your inappropriate flirt during our current case. All this because of _Burns_? Because you thought I _loved_ him?"

She assumed that Cal's intolerable behavior was caused by Burns, but she simply blamed it on the affair itself and not on the fact that Cal thought...

Gillian stands up. This is an argument she doesn't want to have while she is sitting and he is looking down at her. She steps around the table half way and then stops so that she doesn't get too close to him. They are standing face to face.

"I didn't know...," she begins, but he interrupts her.

"What? That I love you?" He never wanted to say it like that, in the middle of an argument, in a voice that is anything but tender, but the truth is the truth, and he is not holding back any longer.

There is a long, painful pause. Cal didn't know what kind of reaction he expected. In any case, not this one.

"I know that you love me," Gillian says and laughs drily when he can't hide his stunned state. He is the expert in reading micro expressions, but did he really expect her not to see it, not to hear it in his voice? She swallows. "But that's not the point. Never has been, hasn't it?"

It's true; she always knew, knew it was all up to her – take the risk and love him back or shut herself off. But she pretended not to know so that she could stick to her plan that those nights only fulfilled a physical need and nothing else even more fiercely. As long as she pretended, no one would get hurt. Deep down, she was aware, of course, that she was not only hurting herself back then but also him in the process. Up to this day, though, she couldn't actually feel it. Now, she feels all of it. It almost presses the air out of her lungs. She is so sorry, so utterly sorry.

"Cal..."

Gillian looks at him in a way so vulnerable, tearing up, that all Cal wants is to comfort her. But now is not the time. Comfort would most likely turn into kisses, they would end up in bed together, and nothing would be solved. He still can't believe that she knew it all along. Another time he underestimated her. Then again, maybe it makes things easier that she already knows. Another step in the right direction even if they are not quite there.

He takes a quick step forward so that she has no time to step back, grabs her wrist and pulls her into his hallway until they are standing in front of a huge mirror. Other people would certainly describe both of them as attractive. Tonight, though, something is different. And it's not their ruffled hair and crinkled clothes that make the difference and that Cal wants to show her.

"What do you see?" he asks her, pointing at the mirror.

"Us," Gillian says, shrugging.

"Lie," he emphasizes. "Try again. What do you see?"

She looks at his reflection in the mirror, really looks at him, at this man who is the person she is closest to in the whole world. And she doesn't recognize him anymore. Then she looks at her own reflection and shivers. She always believed the changes only were inwardly, but somehow it all has come to the surface tonight. At least if you knew how to interpret the signs. Gillian doesn't recognize herself either. Who are these two, strange people in the mirror? What have they done to each other?

"Yes, luv," Cal confirms. "That's not a pretty sight."

She turns to face him, reaching out to touch his face.

"I didn't love Burns," she whispers. "And I didn't know you believed I did and that I hurt you so much. Why didn't you say something?"

Cal doesn't call her out on it that she, the psychologist, could have known all that if she had given it some serious thought.

"Couldn't, didn't want to," he simply says instead. "Wanted to give you the time you needed."

No matter how painful it was for him, Cal wanted to give Gillian time, wanted to let her find out alone. Whether she loved another man, like Burns, or him. When she kissed him as if nothing had happened when they were undercover shortly after she and Burns had broken up, though, he abandoned all hope. Nothing would change. One day, she would most likely start coming to him at night again. It would continue forever in an endless circle, and it would kill him. That's why he began to act up – to punish her, to keep her away from him, to buy them time before they would destroy everything. A dangerous mixture that brought them here. But perhaps the painful journey wasn't in vain.

"Why did you come to me tonight?" he asks softly, touching her hand that still lingers on his face.

"You know why," she admits. Then she blushes, pulls her hand away and looks down.

"No, I don't."

Of course, Cal knows that Gillian came over to churn up his bed sheets together with him as a willing participant. However, that is only the effect not the cause. He is no psychologist, but even he knows as much.

"So, tell me, Gill" he insists, and they both know that he doesn't refer to the physical part.

_You tell me we're okay._ His question earlier today. This is why she is here. Despite his irritating, insufferable behavior, she wants them to be okay, needs them to be. As they were once. But she can't bring herself to say it because saying it means admitting that she can no longer run away from her true feelings, can't escape the risk taker who will take over her life the moment she says it.

A single teardrop finds its way across her cheek.

"I can't...," she whispers.

He wipes the tear away tenderly, then leans forward to kiss her. After a brief moment, Gillian responds, and it's completely different from any kiss they shared before. Cal can feel it. She is not holding back any longer. This time, he is actually kissing _her _not an empty shell of herself that only feels and smells good. But when their kiss becomes more intense, when his hands find their way in her hair and under her shirt, he feels her tense up and pull away.

"Sorry, I can't do that," Gillian barely manages to get the words out, already stepping back.

Cal doesn't block her way or hold her back as he did when their argument started. He lets her go even if he dreads to be confronted with the silence and emptiness of his house, even if his hands and body cool down without the closeness and warmth of her. He lets her go because Gillian needs some time on her own to digest what just happened. She can no longer sleep with him _just like that_, as if it didn't matter in the overall context. Sleeping with him tonight would have been a first, the start of something that scares her so much that she runs away.

There is a smile on Cal's face, anyway. She can't run away forever. And moreover, he is now dead certain of the one thing she had been able to hide from him (and to a great extent apparently even from herself) until tonight.

Gillian loves him, too.

* * *

**If you made it through the whole chapter, I'm impressed. If you also enjoyed it, I'm very happy.**

**Too complicated/unrealistic or a possible version of Callian? **

******Thank you for reading. Reviews are very appreciated. Next chapter: Things get better. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** It would be wrong to describe this chapter as fluff but compared to the previous chapters, it is probably a little sunshine after the rain. I guess Gillian and Cal are finally on the right track. The main (and third) part of the chapter is my version of 3x5 "The canary's song". Always wanted to give that special episode the deserved attention.

To the guest reviewer who pointed out that Cal also had something going on with Naomi. Yes, that's right. I mentioned her briefly in the 1st chapter as "a possible female suspect" Cal "messed around with" (not sure if I mentioned her again in later chapters, rather not). It's really a blink-and-you-miss-it mention. So, it is good to know that there are people like you reading this who pay attention to the details.

Thank you all for your support – your reviews and alerts. I appreciate it more than you know and hope you will enjoy this chapter, too.

**Disclaimer: ***sighs* I don't own neither the show LTM nor its characters. That goes as well for the dialogue from 3x5 "The canary's song" that I used in this chapter (not much, only a few lines, I'm pretty sure you'll recognize it...).

* * *

Cal is determined to give Gillian time to come to terms with herself. No matter what it will take – awkward situations, uncomfortable silences or flippant arguments – he is prepared for it.

The morning after their talk, he arrives early at the office, before Gillian. It is completely uncharacteristic. Usually Gillian starts her office day much earlier than he unless they have a midmorning appointment (well, even then, she usually is there before him, commenting his delay with a not so subtle, reproachful flash). On that particular morning, though, Cal wants to show her that it is her choice how to deal with the situation. He is there (there for her), waiting (for her to decide). She can address it or leave it at that. Cal knows she will understand his intention the moment she comes in and realizes that he is already there.

Gillian arrives approximately half an hour later. Cal hears her footsteps stop briefly in passing when she notices the light in his office and the ajar door. He types something on his keyboard and clears his throat to make a noise and confirm her assumption that he is there. Yet, she goes straight on to her office. But when he not so accidentally meets her in the coffee kitchen shortly after, she nods to him, letting him know that she understands and appreciates his approach.

The day and the time they spend together is less awkward or uncomfortable than he feared. Cal is aware that Gillian tries to limit the time she (has to) spend with him alone as far as practicable. It hurts but not too much because he gets why; the tense look on her face tells him everything he needs to know. She is also determined to come to terms with herself and is adjusting to the new situation. They more or less agreed the previous night that his purposes are no secret even if it was anything but romantic. He loves her; she knows it. In contrast, her purposes _are_ a secret no one is allowed to reveal yet. She loves him, too; he knows it although she didn't say it (confess probably being the more accurate term here). As long as she avoids the elephant in the room, though, they are stuck.

When Gillian is about to head home, passing his office again, Cal is still there, his door still ajar. This time, she pushes it open and goes in, walking straight up to Cal who is sitting behind his desk. She stops right in front of it, doesn't take a seat.

"I am confused, worried and my own worst enemy," she admits without preamble.

Cal leans back. Well, hello, elephant. Nice to meet you.

Her outward appearance is as perfect as usual. Hair. Dress. Make-up. Cal could look at Gillian all day and never be bored. Of course, however, he is able to look beyond, sees the fatigue in her posture and the shadows under her eyes. Neither of them slept last night.

"But...," Gillian's facial expression brightens up and when she continues to speak, something changes – she straightens herself, resolve replacing the resigned tiredness. "I also feel alive as if I finally awoke from a bad dream. I won't screw up another time, Cal. Promise!"

Cal wants to tell her that it wasn't only her who screwed up, that they both made mistakes, but she won't have it.

"Don't say anything, Cal. Just listen," Gillian requests. "I appreciate that you left the choice to me how to go on. And this is my choice. I'm here. You are here. We both will be here every day, and we will see how it goes. No pressure, no expectations."

She doesn't want him to say anything. Hence, Cal doesn't point out that her last four words are a lie or at least fall in a gray area. He can tell that she knows and is trying very hard to convince herself that she means it. Since this is Gillian Foster talking, though, there will be pressure and expectations; she isn't able to live for the moment and have no aim. Gillian did exactly that when she came to him at night, and it almost broke her. This is the hardest part regarding her request and not questioning her statement. Cal wants to know so bad what her aim is because she has one; he is dead certain. Is her aim solely not to screw up another time or not to screw _them_ up? And even if it is the latter, there are many layers of _them_ she could prefer as an outcome. Just friends? Or more? She may love him, even _that way_; still, Gillian Foster is a woman who tends to let reason outdo urge. He saw her do it many times in the past and hopes she will make an exception for him because he will never ever fall in the category of reason.

Gillian watches his inner struggle, how difficult it is for him to keep quiet. Of course, he wants to add his two cents. This is Cal, after all. The man who feels strongly about anything. She appreciates him and his decision to let her set the pace even more after he somehow managed to remain silent throughout her little monologue.

"Thank you." The tiredness found its way back into her eyes. Gillian came by to tell him, and now that she did it, her body demands some rest. "Goodnight, Cal," she says softly, turning around to walk out.

"Night, luv," he responds. "Hope I am allowed to say that."

Gillian doesn't reply, but right before she turns the corner, Cal sees her shrug her shoulders. She is chuckling.

They both will sleep much better tonight.

* * *

Yes, Cal is determined to give Gillian time to come to terms with herself. He was prepared for awkward situations, uncomfortable silences and flippant arguments. He wasn't prepared for it to be fun.

It's as if somebody pushed a reset button. They are back. The Cal and Gillian of the good old times. The banter, the closeness, even the innuendo. The staff notices it, sharing an inaudible sigh of relief. Everyone around them relaxes because they do.

Cal sometimes catches himself almost forgetting that they are not only friends and business partners. They were more in the past, and as much as he wants to do it the right way this time, he wants the whole package. Therefore, he is willing to do the two-steps-back-one-step-forward thing, but for now they only took two steps back. Everything is as it was, and it is not enough. Not nearly.

So, whenever he steps into her personal space these days, he comes a little bit closer than in former times so that his body practically brushes against hers. Cal feels the tingling sensation in his body, feels the echo of it in Gillian's body. It's a dance they should patent.

In the past, it was one step into her personal space, waiting for her response (tilting her head back, her hands softly pushing him away, or sometimes, there was his favorite reaction when she gave him a provocative look that melted his inside). Then, one of them created some distance (most of the time her), and it was over (most of the time not unless he checked her out thoroughly when she walked away). These days, it is one step into her personal space and then another so that personal space feels like miles away in comparison, reaching out to touch her (hand, arm or, if he is daring enough, hip or waist), waiting for her response (breathing fitfully, swallowing, or sometimes, there is his favorite reaction when she just closes her eyes; he likes to think she does it because otherwise she wouldn't be able to resist him). Then, and this is the most significant change, it's never her who breaks the contact as if she dares him to screw it up, but he never does, just steps back after some moments that are never long enough to fulfill his desires. It takes an incredible amount of strength to pull away from her like stepping out of a magnetic field. Then again, she probably knows that because she's the magnet.

It is their mutual test. Cal needs to test whether she still wants him, afraid that the fact that they get along so well again will tempt her to settle for this and nothing more. She never fails the test; her physical response surprises and excites him every time anew. Gillian needs to test whether he sticks to his offer to give her time and let it be her choice how to go on. He never disappoints her either.

It is not the desperately required step forward, but it comes pretty close.

* * *

Then, eventually, Cal finds Gillian on the balcony of their office building after a rough day for both of them. He was in mortal danger in a mine (or perhaps it was an ordinary day for him because isn't he always in mortal danger somewhere?). She dealt with the Feds to, well, save his ass another time, extinguish proof of one of his well-known sins since they had a recording how he more than willingly had participated in illegal gambling and wanted their expertise on a case in return for ignoring his misstep. But instead of being exhausted or frustrated, Gillian is drunk, very drunk as it turns out when Cal sees his bottle of Scotch that Gillian and Ria obviously emptied together, the latter sound asleep on a couch inside.

Somewhere, there is music playing so that it feels as if they are dancing when Gillian sways back and forth, embracing him one moment and stepping back the next. Sometimes she is so close to Cal that he almost expects her to whisper sweet nothings into his ear, but all he hears is an occasional humming, and somehow, this is even better because it vibrates through her body when she presses herself against him in all the right places. She is different, and it is exciting. Then again, Cal learned the hard way that a different Gillian can be dangerous. So, maybe he should be careful. She never whispered sweet nothings into his ear before. Why would she start now? _Because it's what you want_, his inner voice points out the obvious in an annoyed tone of voice. Cal can imagine it so clearly that it almost hurts. Gillian being as relaxed around him as she is now but sans alcohol. That is what he wants, and that is what she hopefully wants, too, but is apparently only able to give to him with the help of Mr. Scotch. Considering her family history, especially her father, Gillian is not someone to indulge in alcohol excessively. Tonight, though, she indulged in more than moderate drinking, and as much as he likes the outcome (because she is really sweet, sweet _and_ sexy, in her tipsiness), he worries about the reasons.

However, it's job first and fun later. Gillian tells Cal that she wants him to thank her for dealing with the FBI so that they let him off the hook. His initial reaction is irritation. Why should he thank her? She did her job; he did his. Then he realizes that even if his thoughts revolve around her constantly, it doesn't include her professionality, how often it was her in the past who saved his face for the sake of the company or simply for his sake. He takes it, _her_, for granted when he shouldn't. If he doesn't respect her as his co-partner, how can he expect her to take his interest in her as a woman seriously?

"Thank you for cleaning up my mess, Gillian."

It is more than a thank you. It is an apology, an admission that this is how it usually goes and that he is aware of it – she covering his back and not vice versa; there rarely is a reason for him to cover her back.

"I can't wait until tomorrow. I get better looking every day," she says in response.

It takes Cal a moment to get it, but then he recognizes the words. Gillian just recited the lines she had heard Cal say when they had made her watch the recording of his gambling. Cal's thank-you changes something between them that had been waiting much too long to be approved. And Gillian chose to requote Cal to bring to his mind that she knows everything about another secret he tried to hide and still is at his side. Save that the words create a completely different context here and now. When Gillian recited them, she wasn't referring to herself, of course. Yet, it was a chance too good to miss to aim for a reaction from him.

He doesn't make her wait. His instinctive reaction are no words though. Gillian is beautiful, gets indeed better looking every day, but Cal never told her explicitly if you ignore the innuendos. Therefore, saying it at this moment would feel cheap, not enough, as if he was only accomplishing an obligation. Instead, he lets her see the truth. She is more than a beautiful face he likes to study, more than a body he desires. His gaze drops to her lips, and he swallows. Attraction. Moreover, there is an expression in his eyes that is not quite a smile but something else, something more, a longing, admiration. Love.

Gillian took off her shoes, holding them casually in one hand as if she did that every day at the office. He loves her in high heels, but the sudden height difference is a huge turn on for him (and probably for her, too, although they never talked about it). In high heels, she is Dr. Foster, all business, the woman who meets him at eye level literally and figuratively speaking. Without them, she is Gillian, or just _Gill_, the woman he shared a bed with, and to be honest, that's all he can think of right now. Cal has no idea where this is going. However, he is highly aware that this is a version of her that will be almost impossible to resist.

She turns off the lamp of the helmet he is still wearing and then takes it off to run her fingers through his tousled hair. Cal closes his eyes; he has missed her touch so much. Gillian leans back, increasing the pressure of her hip against his (yes, right there) only to lean forward again and give him a squeeze. She gives the best hugs, even sober, and the alcohol seems to have doubled her ability. He hugs her back, his hands finding their way under her shirt in the process, touching bare skin. Cal tries (albeit not too hard) but can't keep them still, starting to caress her. In return, Gillian's lips brush hesitantly across his neck and jaw until they find his mouth. Cause and effect usually is a simple equation. At this point, though, it is impossible to distinguish between what or how or why.

She tastes like Scotch and her. Despite the arousal, Cal immediately attempts to evaluate what kind of kiss it is. A needy, desperate kiss of the Gillian who used to come to him at night or a raw, honest kiss of the Gillian he wants to be with, who kissed him only once before in spite of the many kisses they already shared. He thinks it's the latter. Yet, he can't tell for sure because of the alcohol. It lowers defenses, but it also builds walls and creates imaginary worlds. She breaks off their kiss, panting, pressing her curves even more against his body thereby. As if it wasn't difficult enough. Cal is supposed to be the reasonable one since his thoughts and actions are not alcohol induced unlike hers. Given the circumstances, it is more complex.

"Was that the alcohol or you kissing me?" Cal needs to know.

"Both," Gillian answers after a brief pause.

Good. At least she goes for the truth. Then her eyes darken. There is something else.

"Why do you always have do to it, Cal?" she asks almost timidly, and at first, he doesn't understand what she means. "Just when I thought... there you are again in the middle of gambling so that they have something they can hold against us, blackmail us."

There is not much he can say. She is right. Maybe this...

"They can only hold it against _me_, luv, not against you or us."

Gillian snorts, and Cal can't blame her. Even according to him, it sounded lame. They run a company together. It would be presumptuous if it wasn't the truth. He is the center of her existence in more than one way – emotionally and financially. Ruin one piece of their fragile mosaic and watch the rest fall apart. Maybe exhaustion and frustration _were_ among the reasons why she got drunk. But not because of the case, because of _him_.

"Everything they can hold against _you_, they can hold against _me_, and don't you dare to pretend this is news to you," she points out. Suddenly, Gillian doesn't appear to be that drunk anymore, her words faster and better articulated.

She touches Cal's face, his cheek, his jawline. She did it before but not like that, never like that. The intensity of her touch burns his skin, and the intensity of her next whispered words cuts right into his heart.

"Every time somebody hurts you, I hurt, too, even more if it's you hurting yourself or exposing yourself to unnecessary risks. I don't know why you do it. In some cases, maybe, but all things considered..." She pauses to take a deep breath. "I will never understand you no matter how hard I try, and sometimes I just don't know how to deal with it any longer, don't know if I can stand it any longer."

Cal wanted raw and honest, and he gets it. Her kiss was a mixture of alcohol induced bravery and feelings pushing to the surface. This is her and not a detached version that knocked on his door in the middle of the night. Gillian struggles and fights for them right in front of him. Just did it today despite the fact that she doesn't understand him and more often than not even despises his missteps. Nevertheless, she cleaned up his mess another time, and yet, she had to _ask_ him for thanking her. Cal thought he was the one who hurt the most because of her behavior when all along it had been her hurting the most – long before him and because of him. He realizes how much he must have hurt Gillian in the past. How often. How much courage it will take if she actually decides to give them a chance. Like jumping off a cliff without a rope or safety net to break her free fall in case he fails her. How many sorries will be needed to make it up to her? Cal wants to say something, anything, but Gillian puts her fingers on his lips. She isn't finished yet

"And then, just when I'm about to give up, you are nice and apologize and show me everything you feel in your face, in your eyes." She tears up. "You have beautiful eyes, do you know that? They lull me into a sense of nearness, but the moment I think you'll let me in, you close the door. I'm done waiting outside, Cal. Loving you from a distance. If you want me to love you, you've got to let me in." Gillian presses her hands against his chest, unaware of the instinctive self response to protect herself from him. "Let me in, Cal. Please," she slurs, her voice trailing off, her head leaning on his shoulder. It has exhausted her to concentrate through the haze of the alcohol and tell him what she needed him to know. Now, the intoxication takes over.

Cal strokes her hair affectionately, kissing her on the back of her head. "I want you to love me," he mumbles. "I'm just very bad at letting myself be loved." He lifts her chin so that she has to look at him. "If I promise to try harder to let you in, will you give it a try?"

Cause and effect. Maybe it is too little, too late. Or maybe the what or how or why matters after all.

Gillian tries to focus. "I'm trying, Cal. Every day. I'm trying."

She blinks, her expression losing focus, and almost stumbles when she straightens herself. Cal catches her, making sure that Gillian remains within touching distance so that he can hold her. As sudden as she teared up, her mood changes again due to the alcohol. Her eyes darken even more, but this time not because she is has something else to tell him. It is because her pupils dilate.

"You have beautiful eyes," she repeats her earlier words. Cal smiles. No matter what, drunk Gillian is sweet and sexy. "And beautiful lips," she adds, staring at them. Cal doesn't smile anymore. The tingling that started when they embraced and kissed is back.

She gets closer; her lips are right next to his ear. And here come the sweet nothings he imagined her saying to him before, save that they are real now.

"I promised not to screw up again. But if you decide to screw up tonight, I won't tell anyone." Cal freezes, doesn't dare to move. "So, will you? I can be quiet." Her last words are a reminder that Ria is inside and could hear them. Moreover, though, they seem to have a direct connection to his groin because Gillian is _never_ quiet. She knows how to play games with him. The sweet, yet drunk, good girl and beneath the woman who knows exactly how to push the right buttons and string him along.

Cal wants to _screw up_ as she put it. They confessed and reconciled with each other; she is here, in his arms, sweet and sexy and... drunk. No, he will not screw up. The wording of her question was supposed to be funny; the truth would be anything but. Drunk sex rarely is a good idea and for them it would probably be worse. It won't be the needed step forward; it would be another step back.

"Ah, no, you won't," Gillian slurs. Bloody hell. Even drunk she can read him. "I could make you, you know..." She falls silent when his hands trace the curves of her body – her hip, her waist, her back, right up to her shoulders and the back of her neck, holding her tight. She hums contentedly. Yes, she can make him do anything, but tonight there are promises to keep.

"Wicked woman you are," Cal teases. "No, I won't. I will take you home instead. But first...," he whispers into her ear, "...may I have this dance?"

There is no music anymore, but they sway back and forth slowly in their most intimate embrace ever. Two bodies in unison. A perfect dance.

When Cal eventually manages to get Gillian into his car later (after he made sure Ria was still sound asleep and had a blanket to warm her), there is a lot of giggling and touching involved and even some fleeting kisses. "So glad you're here," she mumbles sleepily after he has fastened her seatbelt. "Always miss you when you're not." It probably is the alcohol that made her say those words aloud. Yet, their raw honesty is killing him. What else did she never tell him because he slammed the invisible door in her face just when she thought he would let her in? During the drive, he makes sure that his right hand touches her whenever possible to assure her that he is still there.

He tucks her in (still fully dressed, save for her shoes, she can worry about rumpled clothes and having to take them to the cleansers later) and sends Emily a text that Gillian is sick and that he will stay with her overnight (close enough to the truth, everything else would be way too complicated for a text message). Then he falls asleep on her (rather uncomfortable) couch and leaves before sunrise (after he checked on Gillian, putting a glass of water and some aspirin on her nightstand, wondering how he can feel so good and fresh after way too few hours of sleep).

The state of her undressing that didn't take place will assure Gillian that she, _they_, didn't screw up. Nevertheless, Cal left her a note in addition. When she wakes up and reaches for the glass of water and the painkillers she will need desperately, she will see it.

_Damn right. You owe me._

* * *

**Thank you so much for sticking with the story. **

**Next chapter: The badly needed step forward. They're almost there. ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** This is kind of the aftermath of the previous chapter, dealing with Gillian's thoughts and realizations that eventually change the dynamic between her and Cal. Hope you enjoy it. Thank you, as always, for your very much appreciated reviews and support.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own LTM. I just love Callian so much that I can't stop writing about them.

* * *

Gillian is nervous. No, correction, she is in a state of alert. That note Cal left on her nightstand... _Damn right. You owe me._ He is right; she owes him. But she doesn't know what it means. Will Cal have a heyday and rub her nose in it whenever possible, use it as part of his innuendos? Or will he be tactful and not mention it unless she does? She has to laugh about her latter consideration. Because Cal being tactful and unobtrusive? It's not exactly an image she can picture. Ouch! Even the hint of a laughter makes her wince immediately; this is the worst hangover ever. Despite the painkillers Cal left on her nightstand along with the note and the coffee she is sipping, she still feels bad.

She has to read the file that lays on her desk until the appointment with their client at noon, but right now the words don't make any sense, the letters a blurry mess that makes her want to close her eyes. The effect of the drugs and the coffee has to set in sometime, hasn't it? Gillian straightens herself and takes a deep breath. _You can do that. Just focus on the file and let the caffeine and the painkillers take care of the headache._

Cal pops in on the way to his office a while later when she has half gone through the file.

"Morning, luv." Pokerface. No gloating smile or sly glance. Only an ordinary morning. As if.

Gillian is thankful that she is feeling better and more or less ready to hold her ground. The headache is still there, but it is reduced to a dull pain in the back of her head by now that she can handle.

"Morning, Cal." Anybody else wouldn't probably notice anything – not the way her body is more tense than usual because of the headache or the way she avoids his gaze too soon and looks down because she is nervous all of a sudden. Why is she so nervous? _Because the headache slowly goes away and makes room for other things to think about, _she answers her own question.

"Feeling all right?" Of course, he noticed everything, perking his eyebrows up. So much for being an ordinary morning.

Gillian has to stop herself from shifting; his gaze studying her more intense than she prefers. Then the look in his eyes softens and his smile becomes sympathetic, telling her that he understands. _Been there, done that._ It is Cal, after all. Compared to some of the nights he for sure experienced, the previous night most likely was a walk in the park. Gillian relaxes but when she leans back, the abrupt movement reminds her that her headache is still there, pounding in her head uncomfortably. At the sight of her wince, Cal's smile turns into a broad grin.

"That bad, huh?"

Her first instinct is to deny, to cover up, to do what she always does and does best – hide her real feelings. For a split second, she even considers pretending that she was so drunk that she remembers nothing. Then Gillian realizes how ridiculous, and moreover, wrong it would be. They eventually were honest with each other, told each other the truth and nothing but the truth last night. It would all be in vain if she denied that it happened.

Cal sees a hint of her considerations in Gillian's face, and his grin fades, being replaced by wariness, causing her to raise her hands, palms down – the classical gesture to calm someone. _No. Please don't worry. I won't go there, won't deny anything._

"Yes, that bad," she admits, watching his smile return. "And you are right. I owe you – big time. Thank you for being so reasonable, for taking care of me." She remembers everything. The emotional turmoil. That she made a pass at him. Her words. His. Their closeness and how comfortable and safe she felt in his presence, even inebriated, as if nothing bad could happen as long as they were together.

"Figured you could need some water and painkillers," Cal tries to play the situation down, does it on pure instinct because that's what they usually do – adding a smart remark to an admission that is too close to the truth to take the edge off it. Then Cal discerns what he just did, and his body language changes. He can't expect Gillian to be honest with him and hide behind his well-known and well-practised sarcasm. No double standards. This isn't what he wants any longer. This wasn't what the previous night was about. No reliving of old, bad habits.

His trademark jiggle stops; the look in his eyes changes along with his body language. Gillian shivers. Oh, God, the look in his eyes. Suddenly, she perceives the details of the night before she didn't think about as yet. Cal brought her home that much she is sure of. She remembers it, albeit very blurry because she was so tired by then. She doesn't know at what time he left though – maybe right after he had tucked her in, or maybe he had slept on her couch to be there for her in case she would have gotten sick sometime during the night (and somehow, she is convinced that it was the latter). Only now, she realizes something else, remembers the first feeling she had in the morning when she woke up. A feeling that outdid the blinding headache and the bad taste in her mouth easily.

"The glass of water and the painkillers were a nice touch, but what I really missed this morning was you." As startling as the realization was, Gillian didn't mean to say it out loud, a look of utter confusion on her face when she becomes aware that she did.

Honesty is one thing – admitting this a different matter altogether. It is the look in Cal's eyes that made her do it; an expression she has never seen before. Gillian is able to recognize every emotion in Cal's face by now. If he doesn't try to hide it from her on purpose that is. She saw desire – so often that she stopped counting years ago, addressed to other women but most of the time addressed to her. She saw love – a very rare glimpse here and there. Most of the time she caught it when he looked at Emily, but sometimes it was also there when he looked at her and thought she didn't notice. But she never ever saw those two emotions, desire and love, combined in one look before as if one isn't able to exist without the other, as if he is not able to exist without her. Cal's expression floods through her whole body, beginning at the roots of her hair and ending at her tiptoes, leaving one word as an echo in her soul – forever.

Because that was exactly what she felt when she woke up without him. Of course, it would have been nice to press herself against his warm (and naked) body since they had never woken up together before (she had never stayed the night after their... encounters), but she truly missed him this morning because it had felt so good how he had taken care of her. Finally, she had caught a glimpse of how Cal behaves when she gives him a chance. It had taken the alcohol to lower her defenses and let it happen. But now, she knows. There isn't only the dangerous Cal whose behavior constantly implies the threat that she will get hurt. There also is that other part of him that cares about her way beyond desire, a part she couldn't believe is actually there until she experienced it first-hand last night. That doesn't mean Cal will never hurt her again. He will. Gillian considers it a given. But that's not the point. She doesn't want to change him or his default setting that most likely will always cause her sleepless nights. The mere realization how much she means to him and that it influences him enough to act upon it, is enough to change everything though. As simple as it is, it is what she needs to make the next step in the right direction. She is ready, eventually.

Gillian notices that Cal didn't reply to her statement or react at all. Instead, he continues to look at her, study her, his body still rigid, frozen on the spot. Only when she stands up and approaches him, he kind of wakes up as if she broke the spell.

He stops her in the middle of the last step it would have taken her to end up in contact with his body. His hand embraces her neck, his thumb caressing her jawline. Possessive. Almost aggressive. He grabs hold of her so that she can't get away, but at the same time it is a barrier so that she can't get any closer as well. A small gesture with so much meaning, representing where they stand, needing once more time to adjust. _Don't come closer, don't run away. Just stay here with me._ She loves the implication, loves him, knows it now without a doubt, and judging by the look on his face, he knows that she knows. Gillian feels his hand trembling, his body shivering, the weight of the moment throwing Cal off balance. It would be wrong to ruin this moment with words; the imperfection is perfect as it is.

So, Gillian does neither come closer nor does she try to get rid of his hand taking hold of her. She simply covers his hand with hers to let him know she understands. _I'm close enough to feel it all; I won't run away. I will stay here with you._

Cal eventually embraces and kisses her briefly before he goes to his office. The desperately needed step forward. This was it. So far, though, it is just a theory that needs to be proven. Gillian still owes him and wonders what Cal has in mind next, when he will claim what he now knows is his.

* * *

**Next chapter: Cal claims what is his. ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Do you remember when I said that Cal would claim what is his (namely Gillian) in this chapter? Well, that was before I realized how much was left to wrap up. And since the chapter kept getting longer and longer, I eventually decided to split it and hope you forgive me. I'm sorry, but don't worry, you won't have to wait another week for the next chapter. It's almost done and will be up in a couple of days.

This chapter is told alternately from Gillian's and Cal's point of view, and at the end there is at least a hint that Cal is done waiting and decides to act instead. So, be assured that Cal and Gillian are definitely on the right track. There are references to 3x7 Veronica, 3x9 Funhouse and 3x10 Rebound (and some dialogue snippets taken from that episodes). That's what I meant by having to wrap things up; there were some scenes left I wanted to incorporate in this story, and that happens in this chapter.

Thank you, as always, always, always (can't say it enough times) for your reviews and your support.

**Disclaimer:** I own the idea for this storyline. Otherwise, nope, nothing regarding LTM.

* * *

It has to be him. Cal has to make the next move. It's the only logical conclusion considering the trials and tribulations they passed through. This is supposed to be their second chance, meaning that everything has to be different, real, and for lack of a better word... _correct_. Well, as correct as it can be whilst taking into account that it's still them, because as perfect as they (hopefully) are for each other, their daily routine as well as their handling of each other is more often than not characterized by rough edges rather than straight lines.

Since it was Gillian who came to Cal in the past, it has to be him who comes to her this time so that they can keep their balance and move on eventually. She needs him to do it as final proof that he actually is ready for them being together in real life. It wasn't real life when she came to him during those nights; it only started to get real after Cal confronted her with the situation and forced her to face it. Her subsequent struggle took long enough until she was able to show him that she is ready when they had the _hangover_ _talk_ in her office recently. Gillian completely understands how difficult it is for Cal to take the last step, why he held her back when she approached him. He said it himself a while ago. He usually is the one who takes unnecessary risks but not when it comes to her. And no matter how you look at it, it's a risk although they both are on the same page now. Life is always a risk and love is all the more. So, even if he was the one who initiated it, who wanted her to deal with her true feelings, Gillian's struggle allowed Cal at the same time to defer dealing with the decision how to handle the situation once she would be ready. That was the reason why he held her back. When they cross the line this time, it will be the real thing and not only about physical needs. This time, it will be all or nothing.

All this, Gillian understands, but that doesn't make it any easier. Every day, she sees the desperate fight in Cal's eyes, and every day, it ends the same. Nothing happens. He never claims that she keeps her side of the bargain. Sometimes she wonders if it is supposed to be some kind of punishment because she made him wait so long. Either way, it is killing her. On some days, she just wants to scream at him. _Damn right. I owe you. So, go for it. _However, she understands that this is part of their unspoken agreement and that she has to tolerate it for now. Whether she likes it or not. It is one of the rough edges that define them, and if Gillian is honest with herself, she wouldn't have it any other way. Straight lines are boring ever since she met Cal.

* * *

It's not an actual case – this old, lovely lady Emily unwittingly collided with and brought to their office. But then the old lady told them about people dying in the retirement she lives in and... well, somehow, it is their case now. Veronica, that's the dear old lady's name, fell asleep on the couch, and Cal watches Gillian take care of her. She is so warmhearted and affectionate, watching her makes him feel like a softer version of himself, as if her natural tenderness rubs off on him. Maybe it does.

When she has taken care of Veronica, Gillian comes over to the couch where Cal sits, kneels down close beside him and tells him in a whisper about the newest findings related to this woman they didn't even know 24 hours ago. Cal tries to listen to her words but can't stop his thoughts from straying. It is all a given or at least seems to be. Their closeness, their team play (as long as he stays in line), everything. He can smell her shampoo, her perfume. Gillian is so close that he wouldn't even have to move to touch her soft skin, but he doesn't. Bloody hell, he slept with this woman more than once, and yet, he is scared to death because their next time will be their first time now that there are feelings involved they suppressed earlier although they always were there. Therefore, he doesn't move, doesn't come closer, simply enjoys the moment as it is – even the pain it brings along. Cal is highly aware that Gillian is waiting for his next move, probably initiates situations like this as a test run in between to see how he will react. He also knows, though, that she will endure his behavior. She always does, but this time it's different. For once, they both know where they are heading. It's not a question of _if_; it's only a question of _when_.

Anyhow, Gillian has more than one reason to be annoyed and frustrated when they have an argument in an elevator a couple of days later. They argue about the case, but between the lines they always argue about more these days.

"You make me so mad sometimes," Gillian almost whispers the words as if she is speaking to herself.

"I know." Cal responds immediately. What else could he say? It's the truth. He knows that he makes her mad, probably more often than just sometimes. She doesn't look at him, staring at the door of the elevator or most likely into nothingness so that he can watch her in an unimpeded manner, expecting her to say more. She is in the right mood; he can feel it. But she doesn't. So...

"Anything else?" he makes a last effort. If Gillian isn't willing to play along anymore, he needs to know. But she ignores his subtle allusions, talking some more about the case instead.

When they leave the elevator, Gillian still doesn't look at him, going a few steps ahead. Cal grabs her arm softly to make her stop. She turns to look at him, and it pains him to actually see the annoyance and frustration in her eyes he only heard in her voice before.

"I meant it, Gillian," Cal says. "I know I make you mad. And it probably doesn't help much but, pathetic wanker that I am, I make myself even more mad."

The look in her eyes softens. She looks down, takes a deep breath and then looks at him again, nodding understandingly, before she turns around and walks on.

Well, he may be a pathetic wanker, but she apparently loves him, anyway. Could be worse.

* * *

Actually, it gets worse a couple of weeks later when Cal decides to have himself committed to a mental hospital. For the sake of a case, of course. One has to grant him that he doesn't know about the drugs he consumes unknowingly and effectively at about the same time so that he meets the cliché of someone with a mental illness even better than on an ordinary day.

When Gillian comes for a visit, she realizes in an instant that this is not solely an act. Something is going on. He touches her, can't keep his hands off her. And he does so without any hesitation as if his current inner turmoil doesn't exist. Let alone that he tried to kiss her before he went to put his plan into action. Pretty much the same. The way he approached her. The way he stopped before their lips actually touched, turned around and walked away, waving one hand at her almost mockingly. The Cal she had come to know in recent weeks wouldn't have approached her that boldly unless something was wrong. She should have guessed that he was and still is on drugs even before Loker does a self-experiment and proves that theory correct, hereby solving the case.

The day after Cal was released from the hospital, Gillian knocks on his door in the evening. When he opens the door, she hears Emily in the background and sees the expression in Cal's face change from surprise to wariness.

"Oh, come on, Cal," she states slightly irritated, making no move to step in. "You don't really think I'm here for _that_."

They both fall silent for a moment because _that_ actually is the invisible red neon sign that makes their lives so complicated these days.

"Who is it?" Emily loudly asks.

Cal doesn't answer because if he does, Emily will be with them in a flash, and he seems to assume that she shouldn't hear what Gillian has to tell him. He assumes correctly but even if he doesn't answer, his sweet, curious daughter will join them any minute. Gillian knows that and wastes no time.

"I'm glad you're okay," she says as a preamble, referring to the drugs. Cal is no longer under their influence. "But next time you come closer to kiss me, you better not pretend."

And with that she is gone.

Gillian knows that Cal's look follows her; she can practically feel his eyes bore into her back. He does or says nothing, though, to hold her back. When she has turned the corner, she hears him close the door and Emily's voice. She can't make out the words. Most likely Emily asks him again who it was. Gillian has no idea whether Cal will tell her or not, and if yes, what exactly. Emily is not stupid. She knows something is going on between them but, as curious as she is, she respects their privacy – probably keeping her fingers crossed secretly that they will work it out at last, wondering how complicated, bordering on stupid, adults can be.

It might have been a bit harsh and unexpected to tell Cal that, but it simply was too much. His touch. The almost kiss. Her lips and body still burn, longing for more. She meant what she said. Next time, he better not pretend. And next time, better be soon.

* * *

Cal had plans for dinner. With Gillian. Plans she didn't know about. But then this case came up and Gillian has dinner – albeit with another man. Now, of all times.

Her remark about meaning it the next time he comes closer to kiss her is in his head all the time. Teasing him. Feeding him with images of her, of them, images of the nights they spent together. But every time such an image comes up, Cal is confronted with the harsh reality that he never actually spent the night with Gillian. The only night that came close to it was the night she slept it off in her bedroom and he slept on her couch. And every time he thinks of that, he realizes how much he wants to take care of her again the next time she gets drunk or is just tired. Save that he wants to be in her bedroom with her then and he wants to stay there until she wakes up in the morning at his side. The images and this need, combined with Gillian's remark, were the final straw. There is this intelligent, beautiful woman who can handle his moods and admires his science. She is there every day, right under his nose. What else does he want? So, today of all days, Cal woke up with the determination to get it all right – invite her to dinner, come closer and kiss her afterwards and... well, the rest is a bit blurry in his imagination because they already were _there_ and he doesn't know whether the third date rule applies to them or not.

However, that had been the idea before he learned that Gillian is supposed to play bait in their current case. In fact, they both are the bait. He has to pretend to be Gillian's ex-husband who wants to save alimonies and hires a man (their suspect) for this reason to hook up with Gillian and marry her. Life can't be more ironic, can it? Oh yes, it can, Cal realizes when he is called _Mr. Foster_ because that's Gillian's last name and they are supposed to be married. Have been married. Whatever. Cal hates the case and the suspect. A young, smart, good-looking man. Her type. Having dinner with her. Right now. Flirting with her. Just great.

Cal, Loker and Torres have a seat in the front row. The dinner is, of course, only a pretense to read the man's micro expressions and convict him of lying hereby. Hidden cameras are everywhere, recording every move, every facial expression, every word. Unfortunately, the man turns out to be a pathological liar, a sociopath. Most likely they will have to find another way to blow his cover. For now, though, they try it in this way and Gillian simply enjoys his attention. It is her job to act as if she does, but Cal can tell the difference. She is actually flirting with him. This is definitely more than simply doing her job. She probably does it to tease him, and it is working. _Take a good look, Cal. You could have all this if you weren't such a silly bloke. _Well, Gillian for sure doesn't think the _silly bloke_ part; those are his words not hers even if they presumably come close to her estimation. But then she talks about Cal's flaws (he is supposed to be her annoying ex-husband after all), in fact calls him sexy without saying it (and without her dinner date noticing it), and the almost wistful truth and honesty in her voice as well as in her face affect Cal deeply. It's a message only meant for him although Torres and Loker can't help spotting it, too. Cal feels them staring at his back. Then the moment is gone and Gillian is back to smiling, tilting her head back, flirting like there were no tomorrow. Cal clenches his teeth. He told her once jokingly that he is the jealous type when she received flowers from another man, but it's the truth. Even though he still wants to get it right, this is war and _getting it right_ suddenly takes a backseat compared to _getting her_.

It doesn't help that they had a talk shortly before that confused and provoked him at the same time. When you come to think of it, she is divorced and was in the same situation as the women their suspect ensnared. Therefore, Cal couldn't stop himself from taking a swipe at her to see her reaction.

"I couldn't even get near you when you were on the rebound."

It's not true in the strict sense of the word since he kissed her for the first time when she wasn't even divorced. In a way, though, it is correct. She didn't let him come near to her emotionally, always kept the distance no matter how passionate her body was.

"Maybe you didn't try hard enough."

Gillian's answer told Cal that she knew exactly what his intention had been when he had posed that question and that she was willing to play along. At least to a certain degree.

"You're saying I had a chance?"

And with that, the certain degree was exceeded. Gillian changed the subject to let him know that she won't let him off the hook that easily. And she is right. Cal pushed her until she gave in to her feelings, felt it all, is ready now whereas he... Did he really try hard enough? Does he? The answer is no. But for once, he is more than willing to change that.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. The next chapter will be all Cal & Gillian _getting there_ and will be up soonish. ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Finally, Cal *goes for it*. There is really not much more to say save that this chapter is mainly told from Gillian's perspective, only the flashbacks in italics near the end are Cal's point of view.

Rating for content.

A heartfelt thank you to all of you who still stick with the story. Reviews are very much appreciated and keep me breathing.

**Disclaimer:** Gillian Foster – Cal Lightman – Lie to me. Not mine. None of this. Neither of them. Unfortunately.

* * *

When the case is solved and Mr. Charming sits behind bars and not in a fancy restaurant to have dinner with Gillian, Cal puts his plan into action.

Around noon, Gillian finds a handwritten note on her desk, together with a calling card of one of her favorite restaurants (they serve a delicious dessert), that says _Dinner. Tonight at 8. Meet me there. _She was pleasantly surprised when she saw the note and recognized Cal's handwriting, but her smile fades when she reads the last words. Not actually what she expects of a romantic dinner. She sighs and reminds herself that this is Cal. She shouldn't expect too much romance.

Cal is nowhere to be found for the rest of the day so that she has no chance to nag him about not wanting to pick her up. At least he stands in front of the restaurant, waiting for her, when she arrives.

"I thought I had to look for the rose in your buttonhole to identify you since this seems to be a blind date," Gillian can't bite back the remark.

She spent two hours choosing her outfit to meet a man who didn't bother to pick her up, a man she already slept with, and still, she is nervous and anxious as if this was their first date. Which it is, to be precise – hence, the nervousness. Sometimes she hates what Cal can make her do or feel. But when she sees the look in his eyes, it smoothes her ruffled feelings. He is just as nervous as she is.

"Aye, aye," he mumbles and quickly embraces her, his lips brushing against her cheek so fleetingly that she almost doesn't feel it. "Just wait and see." Now, what is that supposed to mean?

He puts his hand on the small of her back and leads her inside. When the server accompanies them to their table, Gillian sees the reason for Cal's hint. There is a vase with a bouquet of roses on their table.

"Thought you'd like them. They will deliver them to you tomorrow. No need to carry them around. No-fuss," Cal says all this while they are sitting down as if he can't get the words out fast enough, and Gillian realizes two things. First – she was wrong, he is not as nervous as she is, he is _much more_ nervous. And second – maybe there is a romantic hidden somewhere deep down within Cal.

"Thank you. They are very nice," Gillian says and catches the brief smile of relief that crosses his face.

They study the menu. Or rather, Gillian studies the menu and Cal studies her, pretending to choose his meal.

"Stop that, Cal," Gillian states without looking up, "or you're going to make me as nervous as you are; one of us should keep a clear head."

"I'm sorry, luv," Cal admits, "but you are ravishingly beautiful."

How is she supposed to _not_ look at him after he said something like that, and moreover, how is she supposed to keep a clear head?

Their eyes meet, and the temperature in the room goes up several degrees.

"It's the same dress," Cal points out the obvious.

In the end, Gillian chose the little black dress she wore when she had dinner with their suspect. She knows Cal hated it (her dinner with the other man, not the dress) and hoped that he would appreciate the meaning. Like a peace offer. Well, an offer in any case. She doesn't have to ask him whether he likes it (the dress? the offer? both?) or not; he is devouring her with his eyes. This non-romantic, confusing dinner starts to feel like the best, most intense date she ever had.

Gillian holds his gaze and reaches out to hold his hand. Cal tenses up. By now, she knows why he didn't pick her up. He simply couldn't, was probably so nervous that the mere thought of making this even more official by knocking on her door and bringing her flowers was too much. Instead, he chose to meet her here so that he could pretend that it was nothing but a dinner with his co-partner after work. Something they did countless times before. Save for the flowers that is. And the little black dress.

"We don't have to do this, Cal", Gillian says.

"Yes, we have to," he disagrees.

"Because you think I want it?"

"Because I know you like it."

Of course. His words make her dizzy. Have things ever been not complicated between them? On the other hand, it makes Gillian feel warm all over. Dinner. Flowers. Cal is making an effort. _For her._

"You had dinner with other women before, hadn't you?" she teases, wants to ease the situation. "Or did you simply overwhelm them with your charm so that they directly fell into your bed?"

Cal's eyes darken. Perhaps due to the other women she mentioned. Or perhaps due to the image of a bed that now fuels his fantasies. Who knows. Sometimes Gillian really would like to read his sexy mind, not only have to interpret his micro expressions, no matter how good she has become at that in the meantime. Either way, her words didn't ease the situation in the least. Did it just get even warmer in here? Someone must have turned the air conditioning off. She could as well wear nothing and would still be sweating. Speaking of which... if Cal knew _that_, he'd probably... she doesn't actually know what he would do, and right now, Gillian is not sure whether she wants to take the risk to find it out considering that there are many people around. His voice interrupts her thoughts and brings her back down to earth.

"Dinner. Dating. Overrated. Doesn't matter. What matters is that it's you, Gill. From now on. Only you."

He starts to caress her palm with his fingers just when the server appears out of nowhere to take their orders. Gillian holds her breath. Damn him and his skilled hands. She chooses the first dish on the menu that catches her eye, and Cal apparently does the same. Neither of them cares about the food (maybe a bit more about the wine, Cal orders a bottle of one of their favorites), and he doesn't let go of her hand, continuing to stroke her tenderly.

When the server is gone, Cal leans forward so that both of his hands are covering hers now. He is only touching her _hand_, for God's sake, but it feels... she tries to remember if she ever was so aroused in advance during one of the nights she spent with him. In a way, yes, of course. But this is different. This is something they never had when she came over and knocked on his door in the middle of the night. This is what she missed out on because she wouldn't let him make love to her. There was no pleasant anticipation, no foreplay, no indulgence, only raw need and satisfaction. You eat when you're hungry, but nothing tastes more delicious than a sweet dessert when you already had enough. If he can make her feel like this by only touching her hand, she can't wait to experience how he can make her feel when she lets him do other things. Things he wants to do to her; she is dead-certain about it, and his next words confirm it.

"Do you have the slightest idea what it felt like when I held you in my arms, wanted to make love to you but you wouldn't let me? I mean... you were _there_, _right there_, _in my arms_ but yet so far away. Each night you walked out of my door when you thought I was asleep, which I wasn't by the way, I was afraid it had been the last time you'd let me close to you."

Gillian intertwines her fingers with his. "Oh, Cal..." Her face is distorted with regret and pain.

"Don't..." He puts one hand against her lips. "Don't feel sorry. It was good, _we_ were good, even if it was a stupid idea, but we can be so much better. I know it. Do you?"

He takes his hand away from her lips but not before she slightly opened them to let her tongue briefly and oh-so-gently lick his skin. She shouldn't have done it, Gillian realizes in an instant when she sees the look in Cal's face; she just whetted his appetite.

"Yes," she whispers.

Out of the corner of her eye, Gillian registers that the server opens the wine and Cal approves of it after he had a taste of it. She doesn't seem to be able to look anywhere else than at Cal's face. This definitely _is_ the best date she ever had. She has never felt so desired, so loved, before. Granted, her own desire (and love, yes, _love_ – it feels so good to admit it) for sure cloud her judgement, but all the things Cal said to her tonight come down to this – this is the way they are supposed to happen. She is certain that everything they do from now on will be the right thing. Not right as in no-mistakes, but right as in no-regrets. They left that behind eventually.

They clink glasses. Now that Cal sees how she reacts to his words and actions, he relaxes a bit. Aside from the tension of his body that is. It is still there due to their mutual physical attraction, and the brand-new emotional part makes it all the more exciting.

"Remember the night you wore that white blouse?" Cal asks in a low voice.

This is familiar terrain. Cal, the womanizer. Save that he never had that look in his eyes when he tried to talk one of those other women in his bed; Gillian has no doubts about it.

_It was raining that night. He remembers the raindrops drumming against the window, remembers her wet hair because she came over without an umbrella. His hands in her hair. Their kisses that sent them in a sensual frenzy. The rest is a blur just like most of the nights they spent together. Constant rush, only fragments. One moment, though, is crystal clear in his memory. She wore a white, sheer blouse that night. A blouse he knew from work. Save that she always wore something underneath then. That night, she wore a modest, knee-length skirt and in stark contrast to it that blouse with nothing underneath than her bare skin. He remembers how the sight took his breath away when she pulled her coat off. Basically, it was a cliché, a male fantasy – the good girl who showed her naughty side – but since it was her, it was so much more. For once, he saw vulnerability in her eyes when she caught his lustful gaze. For once, he saw _her_ and not the cool, detached version of her she usually presented to him during those nights. He relished the moment as well as her vulnerability. Wanted to prolong it, to look at her, unwrap her like a gift, button by button, touch her soft skin and feel her respond to his touch. But as quick as the moment was there, it was gone again. Instead of letting him do what he longed for, she simply ripped open her blouse, speeding up things when all he wanted was to slow down._

Gillian blushes. Yes, she remembers.

"I think I do," she confirms what Cal already knows because of her reaction.

Somehow, one of his hands has found its way to her wrist and the inside of her lower arm while the other still caresses her palm. She blushes some more. This is ridiculous; she has to stop it. The nerves of her hand and arm seem to be connected to other parts of her body that wake up one after the other. Gillian shifts around on her chair but stops when she sees Cal's smug smile. _Gotcha._

"And do you remember the night in my kitchen?" His low voice again. Sexy. Enticing.

_He almost tricked her, tried to pretend this was part of their usual routine. The chance was unexpected. Gillian was thirsty, had just taken a glass out of his cupboard and filled it with water when Cal approached her so that he was right behind her._

"_Don't move," he whispered in her ear, and to his surprise, she drank the water, put the glass into the sink and then... waited._

_Cal couldn't believe his luck. Perhaps his words had sounded kinky enough to make her play along and not suspect anything whereas his intention wasn't kinky at all. All he wanted was a chance to touch her in a way that came as close to making love as possible. _

_Gillian had just arrived, and they both were still fully clothed. He leaned against her back, his hands exploring her soft curves, hips and waist, before he moved them upwards to even softer parts of her body. She let her head fall back against his shoulder, and again, he couldn't believe his luck and wondered how long it would take until it ran out, hated that he couldn't see her face, only a blurry reflection in the window. The minutes (or rather seconds) passed by, and Cal allowed himself to let his hands slip under the cashmere sweater she wore. Cashmere and linen trousers, Gillian Foster is always well-dressed, no matter what's the occasion. He listened to the simply delightful sounds she made, telling him she liked this and that even more. It was heaven. But then, when Cal was about to slip one of his hands under her waistband, Gillian's hands shot up and covered his to stop him. He saw her staring at him in the window that reflected their images. They both were fully aware what almost happened. He had been about to make her lose control, give herself to him, and she wouldn't have that. So, here they went again, down their usual road of desperate hurry, racing against the clock to reach the finish line as soon as possible._

Gillian is beyond blushing. Trust Cal to pick the two memories of the nights they spent together that marched to a different drummer because she wasn't able to keep up her facade then. And this special memory is one that... maybe she isn't beyond blushing after all. Her breathing gets fitful, and somehow, his hands have found their way to her upper arms, pulling her closer while he is leaning even more forward. Any more and he will actually have to climb on the table that separates them. People start looking.

"This is how I want it to be, Gillian," Cal says in a hushed tone, obviously sure that the images in her head are the same as in his. "Like this."

"So, what are we going to do about it?" She is surprised that she can talk and even more that her voice is almost steady.

"Would you open the door tonight if I knocked?" he asks, leering at her.

"Probably," Gillian answers in a strained voice. So much for maintaining her composure.

"Would you let me in your bed?" If there ever was a look that could undress then and there, it is Cal's right now. She swallows. This is his answer. This and her eyes that practically beg him to make it happen.

They never met at her place, never made it to a bed. It was always the couch, or the floor, or the wall. Just uncomfortable enough to not let what happened pass off as enjoyment. Tonight will be a first in more than one regard.

"Now, I'm hungry," Cal leans back, grinning at her broadly.

"Then, let's tell them to wrap our dinner." Two can play that game.

Gillian stands up and gets closer to him, bending down so that her lips can brush against his. Cal takes advantage of the moment and lets his arm dangle to caress her leg more or less unobtrusively that is swathed in silk stockings. When he lets his hand slowly slide upwards to her upper thigh, Gillian raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth to say something, but in the end she doesn't. She knows that he is waiting for it, gazing at her lips that were about to form one syllable – his name. Probably he could already hear her say it in the way that is reserved for situations like this – an annoyed, breathy tone of voice that he can't get enough of. When she catches the expression in Cal's eyes that tell her he thinks about doing something even more daring just to force her to say it, Gillian raises her eyebrows some more. People are really looking by now, and their server will most likely, albeit politely, ask them to leave any minute. They are leaving, either way, but she doesn't intend to be the talk of the town.

"I'll take care of the food," Cal says understandingly, pulling his hand away from her leg.

Somehow, the idea that they both leave separately and that she will wait for him at her house increases Gillian's anticipation even more. One look at Cal and she is sure that he feels the same. When she turns around to leave, though, she hears his voice.

"Just don't..." He points at her dress. "Don't get changed."

She almost forgot and that says something about this evening, but now she remembers. This time she not only blushes but purples.

"Don't worry. I don't have to," Gillian eventually manages to say, seeing the quizzical look on his face. It's almost funny that he didn't notice it yet.

She would give anything to watch his expression because he will see what she means when she walks away. _I don't have to._ Actually, it's not about what Cal _will_ see but what he _won't_. He will realize that her dress fits perfectly as in no visible panty line, no bra that's showing. He will realize that in contrast to the fake dinner date she had with their suspect, she chose to go commando when she met him and that, daring as he can be, she sometimes accomplishes to be one step ahead of him.

At least the man at the next table notices, barely able to take his eyes off her.

"What's so interesting, huh?"

Gillian hears Cal's threatening voice behind her, most likely addressed to that man, and smiles. Okay, yes, smug. Her smile is smug. Even she is allowed to have one of those moments from time to time. Apparently, Cal noticed, too. Sometimes it's a blessing to be a voice expert. Otherwise, she would have only heard the anger and annoyance and not the thrill and adoration in Cal's voice between the lines. Maybe it's not that bad that she couldn't see his face. That way, she can imagine it along with his tone of voice to bridge the time until he knocks on her door tonight.

Something tells her, she won't have to wait long.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint.**

**I originally intended to let the story end here, but somehow it feels not right and too abrupt. **

**So, I will add another chapter as kind of an epilogue.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **So, this is it, the final chapter. First of all, I suppose that at least some of you probably hoped for a more *heated* chapter to continue the last one. But since I like to leave at least some things to the power of imagination, I took the chance to wrap things up here more emotionally and hope you don't mind. Basically, I took the episode 3x13 Killer App and turned it in some kind of an epilogue to find an appropriate ending for Cal's and Gillian's journey in this story. (The scenes from that episode I had to re-watch in order to quote the lines right broke my Callian heart all over again.)

This Chapter is told alternately from Cal's and Gillian's point of view. Rating for language. What can I say? It's Cal.

It is wonderful to be part of this great fandom. A heartfelt thank you to you all for your support, especially to those of you who took their time and reviewed every chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I neither own LTM nor the scenes/dialogue taken from 3x13 Killer App I refer to in this chapter.

* * *

When his cellphone rings, Cal is more than just a little bit relieved. Seeing, and moreover, _hearing_ Emily and her boyfriend work out together as the lamest excuse for the weirdest foreplay ever makes him want to get out and get out _fast_. He spots Gillian's number on the display and hopes that her call will be the perfect excuse to do exactly that.

"You have no idea how happy I am you called, Foster."

Ever since they are together – as in _actually but very secretly because no one knows about it yet_ together – Cal teases Gillian by still calling her _Foster_ from time to time. Usually this leads to some friendly banter and he always makes up for it later. Today, though, he knows in a split second that something is wrong, _very wrong_.

At first, he only hears her fitful breathing, interrupted by uncontrollable sobbing. Cal heard Gillian cry before but not like that. It turns his stomach. What the hell happened? Then she starts to speak and goes on and on to him in a way that is not like her at all. He is only able to make out single words or fragments of a sentence. _...blood... Claire is dead... Cal, please... couldn't help her..._ It makes his blood run cold.

"Slow down, darling."

Cal is seriously worried about Gillian's physical and mental integrity. Claire, a young woman who was their client, and moreover, very important to Gillian because she treated her as a child, obviously is dead. Gillian is at her place or even was there when she died or was killed. He doesn't know. Her words are too confusing to tell what really happened, a cacophony of terrible possibilities messing with his mind while Cal is running to his car. He stays on the phone with Gillian until he arrives at Claire's address, too afraid to let her hang up and not know what is going on. Only when he parks his car, he ends the call and runs inside. After all, he found out that police and ambulance are on their way or already there. So, at least, he can concentrate on her and doesn't have to deal with that.

He doesn't know what to expect when he spots Gillian at the end of a long corridor. But for sure Cal didn't expect _that_, not so much _blood_. It's everywhere. On her shirt, her hands, all over her body. Again, he is running, running as fast as he can. Then he is there, able to touch her, to hold and comfort her, and finally able to stand still. Gillian is crying, her whole body shaking in his arms, as she tells him a short version of what happened, namely that she came over to check on Claire and found her stabbed, bleeding and dying on the floor. What a nightmare. At least the blood isn't hers. As horrible as it is that a woman died tonight, thank God, it wasn't her.

They go through the routine. Gillian has to make a statement, and Cal calls Wallowski even if he knows Gillian won't like it. (Of course, she doesn't. _You called her?_ being her only response.) But she is professional enough to make a statement at the police station and angry enough, beyond her grief, to visit Zach with him afterwards, one of Claire's business partners and a possible suspect, before they eventually drive home, _home_ meaning her house in this case. Cal called Emily to give her a brief overview on what happened and to tell her that he will stay with Gillian overnight.

She shivers, despite his warm jacket she is still wearing, when they get out of the car so that Cal walks straight into Gillian's kitchen to make her some tea. He expects her to go upstairs and take a shower or to join him in the kitchen, depending on whether she wants to be alone right now or not, but all he hears is silence.

"Gillian?"

He looks for her and finds her at the front door. She simply stopped there, didn't go any further. Gillian looks down, her shrugging shoulders the only sign that she is crying because there is no sound at all. This is even worse than the sobbing he heard over the phone. Cal embraces her just like he did when she stood in the corridor, waiting for him. Again, her whole body is shaking, but this time she doesn't pull herself together as she did at the crime scene or police station. This time she allows grief and shock to completely overwhelm her. Most likely because she knows he is there to catch her if she falls in every way.

"She is dead; Claire is dead," is all Gillian says repeatedly as minutes pass by and the darkness from outside slowly creeps into the house.

Cal simply holds her until her shaking decreases and he feels exhaustion take over.

"We've got to get you out of your clothes, luv" he mumbles into her hair.

The tea can wait.

He leads her to the bathroom and – since she basically still doesn't move – takes off her (or rather his) jacket and the bloody shirt. The police took photos of her as well as DNA samples of the blood on her shirt and of her as evidence. Cal more or less rubbed her hands clean earlier, but the rest of the blood is still there. It's on his jacket, too, by now although that doesn't matter. He will throw it away, doesn't need the reminder because this jacket will remind him of what happened no matter how often he will have it cleaned. What really shocks Cal, though, is the amount of blood on Gillian's body as if she is the one who was stabbed. Her shirt apparently was so soaked in blood that her bra and upper body are practically red. Cal swallows. It's not a pretty sight. She wouldn't let him wash out the blood when they were at the crime scene and the police station, just wrapped herself in his jacket and pretended everything was fine as it was.

Cal turns the shower on, adjusting the temperature, while Gillian is taking off the rest of her clothes with shaky hands and stepping into it. He wants to help her to wash the blood away, but she refuses, apparently needing to do it herself as a cathartic exercise. Gillian isn't aware of the fact that this is exactly what Cal wants to do right now for the very same reason. Being a psychologist, she usually knows such kind of things in her sleep, but at this instant she is not a psychologist; she is a traumatized woman. Her needs go first even if it isn't easy for Cal to remain passive. All the more, as he wasn't there to protect her when it happened. So, he just stands there, trying not to move or to make a sound so that Gillian is not distracted because it is all she needs and all he can do. Only when she steps out of the shower without any traces of blood on her body anymore and in his arms that hold the towel out to her, Cal actually believes she survived and is still alive.

* * *

It's as if she rinsed the shock off along with the blood. Once, Gillian showered and drunk the hot tea Cal made her, she felt much better. Still a little shaky, but nothing else was to be expected after such a day.

They are lying in bed, their bodies intertwined. They don't always sleep that close together, but tonight it will be the only chance to fall asleep at all; they both know as much. After they have been talking for a while, a comfortable drowsiness surrounds them. Cal protected and comforted her the entire time. Now, his head lies half on her shoulder and half on her chest as if he is the one who needs protection and comfort. Gillian dishevels his hair tenderly, and he sighs contentedly. Cal's body gets heavier, almost uncomfortably heavy in fact, because his muscles go limp. He is drifting off to sleep. Gillian won't push him aside for the world though. The physical proof that he is in her life never felt as good as in this moment.

_I called 911, and then I called you._

The moment Gillian looked at Cal when she said that as part of her statement at the police station, she saw it. She simply hadn't been able to see it before, was still shocked and affected by everything that happened, but at least some of her abilities seemed to come back. The way he clenched his teeth, his jaw a sharp line in his face – it wasn't only her who had a bad day. It was equally bad for him. Cal was, and still is, suffering, too. A lot.

She doesn't dare to imagine how this day, let alone this night, would have been for her if they weren't together. Gillian flutters a kiss into Cal's hair and closes her eyes, feeling the gravity of sleep reaching out to her. If this was a test of fate for their relationship, they passed.

* * *

A couple of days later, it's over. The case is solved, the murderer caught. Save that it never will be over. In one way or the other, Gillian will always mourn the loss of her friend.

Cal finds her on the couch in her office just after Claire's boyfriend and business partner, Kyle, gave her something from Claire as a memory and left. A necklace. Gillian used to make those with Claire back in the days when Claire was a child and her patient because she wouldn't talk. He sits down close beside her on the couch. It breaks Cal's heart to see how the gift affects Gillian, to see her tears – again. He stopped counting how many times he saw her cry during the last days.

"Come here," he takes her in his arms.

They talk and cuddle a bit. When Cal feels Gillian relax, he lets his thoughts stray. In the course of the investigation, he confronted the suspect, Zach, another time, tried to get to the truth. Soon, their talk turned on sex. There had been three business partners who used to be friends – Claire, Kyle and Zach. One woman, two men, add jealousy and it is never a a good mix. Their discussion got heated, and Zach provoked him. Cal remembers his exact words.

_There is a proportional relationship between how crazy a girl is and how slutty she is. You know who's really nuts? Therapists. Your friend Foster must be a real hellcat._

If the situation hadn't been as it was, Cal would have laughed out loud right then and there because even if Gillian definitely isn't nuts, Zach was right. She definitely is, or at least can be in certain situations, a hellcat. Not that he plans on telling someone like Zach about it or anybody else. Ever. The night they had dinner was one of the best nights of his life. Not only because they finally made love and didn't just have sex but because of everything. It's almost eerie how easily everything fell into place. The way he sits beside her now, his arm around her, Cal can immediately recall several situations that match this touch – clean as well as explicit ones. It all melted together that night. A perfect mix. So, yes, Gillian can be a hellcat – in bed and beyond. When she shoved Zach fiercely on the day they visited him together, Cal realized that, and moreover, he realized that there probably will never be a day when he won't learn something new about her.

"I heard what you said to Kyle," he says quietly.

During the investigation, Gillian and Ria talked to Kyle in their office premises. Cal checked the recording. His intention wasn't to control or spy on Gillian. Since she is more than a little emotionally affected, though, he simply didn't want anything to be overlooked. After all, it is Gillian's friend who was killed.

"Huh?"

Obviously, Gillian almost dozed off. She still doesn't sleep through the night, keeps awaking with a start, mortally terrified because of a recurring nightmare that turns out to be the truth once she is awake. Gillian insists on Cal sleeping at home from time to time, arguing that she wants it that way, that she needs to deal with the situation on her own. When Cal saw her interviewing Kyle, though, he became aware that she only pretends and doesn't actually mean it. This is the only thing he hates about loving her. These days, he can practically not read her anymore at all. The little insight he'd had in the past walked out of the door that night some weeks ago when they finally allowed themselves to fall for each other. Only when he watches her from a distance or in a recording, he is able to spot things. Not always, but in this case it was more than obvious what he saw in her face. She was barely able to pull herself together at a certain point of the interview.

"Kyle. You and Ria talked to him," Cal reminds her gently.

"Yeah, I told you about it. Why? What did you hear?" Gillian looks at him, frowning. Then it dawns on her. "Did you watch the recording?" She doesn't seem to be angry about it, apparently understands why he did it.

At first, Kyle denied that he'd had a relationship with Claire, had slept with her. They had told no one about it. No wonder it got to Gillian. Claire's and Kyle's situation had been pretty similar to theirs. Business partners. Friends. Lovers in secret.

_Guess she just didn't mean that much to you, _Gillian confronted Kyle when he wouldn't admit his love for Claire.

Her verbal provocation fit the case. It was her facial expression that blew Cal away. Contempt. Pain. It wasn't only directed at Kyle. Part of it was directed at herself and thereby at him. They had talked about in between. If and when they would disclose their secret. They want to; that much is clear to them. They are just waiting for the right moment. Or at least were. It hadn't been important. Somehow, the secretiveness had made it all even more exciting. Waking up together but driving to work separately. Fleeting, yet passionate, kisses in their offices or in the elevator. It had been okay. Fun. Until now. Until death changed her point of view. Gillian needs him constantly not only when he is able to sneak away from his daughter without raising suspicion. When she told him she wanted it that way, the implication was that they had no other choice, had to do it because they didn't tell anyone about them as yet. It is just like her not to say anything explicitly, not do demand anything. Most likely she expects him to see it, to act upon it. It is clear that they will tell his daughter first, the fact that it is his daughter and not hers making it his decision in her book. In situations like these, Cal hates it even more that Gillian is his blind spot. He should have seen it, but he couldn't.

"Yeah, watched the whole interview," Cal answers her question. "Got to you that Kyle refused to admit he had a relationship with Claire."

He feels her tense up, but she is too tired to argue. What would be the point of that, anyway?

"You know it's not true, Gill, right? When it comes to you and me, I won't deny anything. You mean everything to me. _But_," he stresses, "you have to tell me when something is bothering you because the few things I was able to see in your face... no longer there. At least not when we're together. It's the price I pay for being with you. Not that I mind. But I don't have the time to videotape you all day and watch it later to read you. Rather spend my time with you. So, just tell me, aye?"

She smiles with restraint, her voice filled with more un-cried tears, "Okay."

Gillian rests her head against his chest. She knows Cal loves her. He told her often enough. At least he hopes so. And she told him. There should be no doubts. Then again, it's all still fresh and fragile. In this regard, they are no different from other couples.

"I was repulsed by our stupid decision to keep it all a secret," Gillian says in a strained voice. "Claire is...," she clears her throat. "Claire is dead, and here we are, happy and not telling anybody. How stupid is that considering how fast you can lose everything?"

She is right. What a waste of time to make a fuss about such simple things when a knife can change everything within seconds. But Cal also knows there is more that bothers Gillian. Her hand clutches at his shirt; he covers it with his.

"I didn't know that you weren't able to see what was bothering me; I thought it was so obvious that even if I am your blind spot, there was no way you could have overlooked that." Gillian takes a deep breath. "I need you, Cal," she whispers, an admission like this not passing her lips easily. "I want you to spend time with Emily, but at the moment I can't stand to be alone, especially at night, no matter how weak and depended that sounds."

She sits up to look at him. Cal reaches out his hand and caresses her lower jaw.

He is mad as hell at himself. It wasn't many nights they spent separately, but Cal is dead certain Gillian had nightmares and woke up to find herself all alone because recently she has been having nightmares every night. Emily is visiting some friends the next couple of days so that he can stay with Gillian until Emily comes back and then tell her immediately. Unleash the secret, in a way.

"Don't be angry with yourself," Gillian says, patting his chest.

Cal is surprised. She saw that? He actually hoped her abilities were as restricted as his due to their new closeness.

"Is it bad that I still can read you? At least to some extent," she adds.

Bloody hell. She can even read his silence. That is an imbalance he definitely doesn't like, an unfair competition. Well, bollocks to that. Looks like he has to live with it. He can do something else though.

"I'll be there the next time you wake up in the middle of the night," Cal promises and sees the look in Gillian's eyes soften, practically willing him to read her and see it. Relief and love.

"And I'll tell Emily as soon as she's back home, shout it from the rooftops so that everybody knows I am with this smart, funny, beautiful woman," Cal doesn't know whether Gillian recognizes the words Ria said to Kyle describing Claire during the interview. They made him think of Gillian the moment he heard them.

Gillian doesn't say anything to that. Instead, she rests her head against Cal's chest once more and puts her arms around him so that they are even closer together. Their hugs always crossed the line from friendly to more. This embrace, though, doesn't leave much room for speculation in case someone goes by and sees them through the open door. So, albeit it is not verbal, this is Gillian's reply. _If someone goes by and wonders at the quality of our relationship, you can start right now._

* * *

When Cal comes over a couple of days later, he is nervous and agitated. It is the evening before Emily is supposed to be heading home. They agreed to have an uncomplicated fast food dinner at Gillian's house after a long day at work. Hence, Gillian blames the fact that Cal is so wired on their workload.

"I told Emily," he casually states while they are piling food onto their plates.

"Told Emily what?" Gillian asks unsuspectingly.

"About us."

Gillian gasps for air and stops in the middle of the movement. Come again? But she recovers herself quickly, so many questions already bubbling up in her throat.

"You did? But you wanted to wait until Emily is back home. What did she say? How did she react?"

No wonder Cal is so nervous and agitated. As she is now.

"Well, she practically asked for it. No, not practically. She asked me if I love you, like _really_ love you."

Gillian can't help but smile. This definitely sounds like Emily. Trust her to hit home.

Cal tells her that he said yes, that Emily then asked what he was waiting for and that he was so taken by surprise that he stalled her by instinct first and told her that he had no answer for that one until he gathered his courage just seconds later and told her everything. Emily is his daughter, after all, and entitled to the truth. Aside from that, he had a promise to keep.

When he is finished, they just stand there, looking at each other. Gillian doesn't know about Cal, but _nervous and agitated_ just got replaced by _giddy with excitement_. Gillian claps her hands.

"Wow," she says. "That's good, right? So, it's okay for her? When will she be back?" She fiddles with the folding boxboard and only realizes it when Cal takes it out of her hands. Breathe in, breathe out. She has to calm down. "What now? Where do we go from here?" More questions, more excitement.

Gillian is aware that she is overreacting. As if she didn't know Emily and never spent time with her before. Cal talked with Emily about his love for Gillian. That Emily and Gillian love each other is a given. Has been for years now, ever since Emily was a child. But she isn't able to think clearly at the moment, impatiently waiting for Cal's answers.

Cal picks his cell phone up and sends a text message to someone.

"What are you doing?" Gillian is irritated.

"We can't eat all this alone." He points at the food he brought, and she can tell that he is trying to string her along on purpose. When Cal smiles at her lovingly, though, his efforts to hide his happiness to no avail, a realization starts to dawn on her.

"Is Emily already back? Did you just text _her_? Where is she?" Again, she is firing questions at him even if he still answered none. It is driving her crazy. "Cal... I'm talking to you."

By now, Gillian is almost certain that the conversation between Cal and Emily took place face-to-face at his house and not over the phone as she thought at first. His grin gets broader; the look in his eyes confirms her assumption just when there's a knock at the front door. Gillian is in for another surprise.

"She's already here? Did you make her wait outside? It's freezing, Cal. She will catch a cold."

She heads to the door. Emily will be, indeed, standing outside when she opens it. What Gillian doesn't know is that Cal already sees in his mind's eye what will happen before it actually takes place. Their smiles. Their loving hug. The moment he was waiting for.

Later, when they had dinner together and Emily fell asleep on the couch, Gillian will realize why Cal seemed to be so oblivious to her questions. _What now? Where do we go from here?_ There is no need to worry. They are already on their way.

* * *

In retrospect, they should have known better, could have spared themselves a lot of painful experiences. Then again, perhaps it was meant to happen that way, perhaps it was the only way it could happen at all.

* * *

**The end**


End file.
